


May Every Yoke Be Broken

by Lokiscribe



Series: To Go On Living [4]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Gen, Harm to Children, I'm so flipping nervous to post this, Implied Castration, Kidnapping, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki's Punishments, Loki-centric, Post-Avengers (2012), Slave Loki, Slavery, Whipping, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiscribe/pseuds/Lokiscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As punishment for his crimes on Midgard, Loki has been forced into slavery on Asgard. Although initially resistant to his fate, the constant torture and abuse eventually broke him, and for nearly a year, Loki has been existing in a state of fear and pure survival instinct.</p><p>But all that may be about to change... </p><p>*****</p><p>This is the final installment in the "To Go On Living" series.<br/>Please read the previous installments in the series before reading this! Be sure to mind the tags.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Please also read the notes at the beginning before reading.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience. 
> 
> Ugh. This story. Gosh, it's been giving me a hard time. Because I wanted to finish around now, I've been rushing myself, so I really haven't enjoyed writing this nearly as much as the earlier stories. I didn't get it all done like I wanted to, but I thought I'd at least post a bit for you all and keep working on the rest. No idea if it's any good. I hope you all like it. Definitely worried you won't. I'm really nervous to post this.
> 
> Please be gentle with criticism. 
> 
> Don't freak out about the kid. Nothing happens to her. No, really, read that again. _Don't freak out about the kid. NOTHING happens to her._ I don't want any comments berating me for writing a kid into this. I came up with the concept for this story literally a year ago (I actually wrote the first part of the first chapter last summer as well) and decided to stick with it.
> 
> The underage warning is there not because there is any sex involving a minor (there isn't), but because I knew some people would inherently object to the concept of a child in slavery. I repeat, _nothing happens to her_. 
> 
> Similarly, 'harm to children' tag is there because i'd rather over-warn than under-warn. She doesn't actually get hurt.

Ever unceasing is the passage of time, heeding the cry of neither he who would prolong his joy nor he who would end his suffering. Inevitably, another day in Asgard was coming to a close, the gleaming sun sliding below a colorful horizon and signaling to the subjects of the realm that the occasion for sleep drew near. 

Several stories beneath the palace, where the air was colder, the light almost non-existent, and the atmosphere dominated by grimness and dismality, the most vulnerable inhabitants of Asgard knew, too, that the day was approaching its end. In a drafty corridor patrolled heavily by the hawk-like eyes of Enforcers, a long row of locked cells housed scores of public slaves, silent except for the sound of frantic chewing as they scrambled to feed their starving bodies. 

Loki, the former prince of Asgard, sat against the stone wall of his cell, tightly clutching his dinner rations with both hands. On each side and across the room, he could see his fellow slaves eyeing him, clearly jealous of the sustenance he held in his grip. He had received a particularly thick chunk of bread that evening, completely by chance, of course (the cook on duty was one who Loki knew to be very disgruntled about serving slaves, so it was out of the question that Loki’s good fortune had resulted from an act of charity), but the vast majority of the starved souls with which he shared a cell had not been so lucky. 

Even on a good day, such as today, when labor ended early and each slave was given a bowl of soup in addition to the standard piece of bread, hunger still consumed each and every one of them, and no one would fail to scramble for a morsel left unattended.

Therefore Loki knew well that if he did not remain alert and watchful, he risked losing his meager meal. In his first few weeks in the cells, he’d had the misfortune of allowing his despair to distract him from his food, as he had not yet descended as deeply into the depths of malnutrition as had those around him, but as the lack of food began to take its toll on his body, he came to understand just how much throwing away an opportunity to eat could devastate him. It was hard enough laboring on the small amount of food that they did receive, but he’d learned the hard way that completing the work assigned to him became exponentially harder if he missed a meal. The slaves were fed twice daily, once in the morning before beginning their toils, and once at night, when the last of their tasks was finished. Their undernourished bodies grew used to this routine and suffered for any further lack. 

Loki may have lost control over his life and wellbeing when he was enslaved, but one thing was certain: As weak as he had grown in the relatively short time of his captivity, the former prince could still muster up considerable strength when it came to defending his access to food. 

He sent a notably fierce glare at a middle-aged female who had been not-so-subtly creeping closer to him for the past few minutes. She glared right back, but having been found out, stopped her advancement. 

It surprised Loki that he still had it in him to produce such aggression. Certainly, the desire to present such behavior in front of a free person had long since been beaten out of him, but he did not have the same fear of his fellow slaves that he did of those more powerful than him. 

He shuddered at the thought of what would happen to him if he dared look at an Enforcer in that manner. He’d be whipped senseless, not to mention deprived of food for several days and kicked until every rib was bruised. It had happened to him before, both in the early days of his punishment and more recently whenever he made the slightest of mistakes or acted in a way deemed even mildly inappropriate for someone of his standing. 

The consequences for misbehavior were always harsh, and most slaves learned to be docile and obedient before long. But they also knew that they had no need to fear each other, as any physical altercations between slaves would be punished just like any other offense. No slave would risk bringing such severe pain upon himself, even if it meant obtaining extra food. 

And so Loki, once he had learned he would not be attacked for it, resorted to throwing unpleasant looks at his peers in order to dissuade them from taking advantage of him. Anyone who’d known him in his previous life would have seen such glances and believed that the old Loki still remained, but in truth, the fallen god’s glares had nothing to do with the contempt or bitterness that had once so often distinguished his features and everything to do with pure survival instinct. 

He wouldn’t dare offend one of his superiors, but he would never hesitate to direct a meaningless scowl at a slave who tried to steal the food for which Loki was so desperate.

Sensing from his peripheral vision that others were still eyeing him, Loki hurriedly shoved the remaining crumbs of stale bread into his mouth, licking his fingers to ensure that nothing would go to waste. He swallowed the last bite and breathed a sigh of relief that no one had been able to steal from him, but several slaves were clearly disappointed, one or two even looking desperate. 

Loki couldn’t blame them in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he could afford to be charitable. With all the deprivations of slave life, his own needs had to be his sole priority. A moment ago that had meant guarding his food, and now it meant getting some rest in preparation for the next day’s inevitable hardships. 

He rolled over onto his side and drew his knees up toward his chest, trying simultaneously to find a suitable sleeping position and to bring some warmth to his shivering limbs. Laying his head on top of his folded right arm, he was just about to close his eyes when he heard male voices off in the distance, grumbling and snarling as a key aggressively shoved into a lock. Then there was the horrid creak of rusted hinges as a door at the far end of the hall lurched open, only to be flung shut again a moment later. 

This was unusual - such commotion never happened at this hour. By this time, the enslaved wanted nothing more than to claim much-needed rest after a long day of hard labor, and the Enforcers normally had no motivation to prevent this, as they were ready to be through with their own work for the day. 

But something was clearly happening now. Loki could see the other slaves in his cell had noticed as well - some were plainly annoyed at being disturbed from their sleep, others looked fearful or apprehensive, while only a few seemed to ignore the hubbub entirely, continuing in their efforts to rest. 

Loki did not experience any of these particular reactions - he was merely perplexed as to why this breach of routine was occurring. Whatever was happening seemed to greatly displease the Enforcers carrying out the unknown task; it sounded as though they were dragging someone down the hallway, someone who was putting up a good bit of resistance. It was not unusual for new slaves to be rebellious at first - Loki certainly had been, before he was broken - but they were usually delivered to the cells earlier in the evening, and they usually did not… _whimper_ … as this prisoner seemed to be. It was a strange sound, high pitched and whining, the sheer _terror_ sounding somehow… different… from the fear Loki was used to witnessing in slaves. 

A moment later it became clear why, and Loki’s eyes widened in shock as a child came into his view, seemingly female and flanked by two enormous and highly irritated Enforcers. Her struggles were not due to rebellion but rather to pure, primal fear, and it was horrifyingly clear that the situation was too much for her. 

Most of the other slaves, having ascertained the cause of the ruckus and determined that it was not going to bring them any personal pain, turned away and resumed sleeping. But Loki could not tear his gaze away from the child… she didn’t look old enough even to have begun her monthlies… and was she _Midgardian?_

Using force that far exceeded what was necessary to control their charge, the Enforcers shoved the girl into Loki’s cell, having unlocked it whilst Loki stared in disbelief. She skidded to the ground and began to cry in earnest, whimpers continuing in between breaths. Loki sat frozen, not knowing how to react. 

The girl’s sobs reached so loud a volume that several slaves started to protest angrily; one even got to his feet and stormed over to stand above her, his fists clenched and his words threatening violence if she did not quiet herself. 

Seeing that the others would attack the girl if she did not calm down, Loki made a split-second decision and scurried over to her, pulling her toward him and away from the one who threatened her. 

Without looking to see how the aggressor had reacted, Loki shushed the child nervously, attempting to provide comfort as best he could. It was not a role he was accustomed to, but his efforts seemed to be working, as the girl’s sobs did quiet down to mere whimpers once again. Despite this success, Loki felt quite helpless, because nothing he was doing would make any difference in the girl’s overall situation. She was still, for whatever reason, a slave on an unfamiliar planet, surrounded by people who could only be depended on to ensure their own survival. Loki didn’t know quite why he felt the need to help the child, but he wondered if it was perhaps because of the ways he had felt neglected and overlooked in his youth. Or because he didn’t want one so young to go through the same experiences he had over the past year. No, he didn’t really know why he felt drawn to this girl, but now he felt that he must protect her. 

“Come,” he whispered, tugging the sniveling girl so that they both leaned against a wall. She obeyed, looking up at him with eyes that were miserably red and puffy. 

“What’s happening?” she asked, with such fear in her voice that Loki’s gut wrenched. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“How have you come to be here?” he asked slowly. 

She shook her head wildly. “I don’t know! I was skiing with my parents in Finland, and all of a sudden I saw these big men that looked like Vikings, and they started cursing and just grabbed me and all of a sudden I didn’t know where I was… It happened so fast…”

Loki was dumbfounded. Her story didn’t make any sense. It was obvious that the men she had seen had been Aesir, but why had they been on Midgard, and why had they taken the girl?

“Why did this happen?” she repeated pleadingly. 

“I - I don’t know…”

The girl began to cry again. 

“Shh shh shh,” Loki said frantically, looking around in panic at the other slaves, who blessedly remained asleep and undisturbed. “It’ll be alright…” Of course it wouldn’t be, but what else could he say? 

“What’s your name?” the girl asked, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her oversized rags. 

“I am Loki,” the former prince said, and in his mind he was suddenly transported back to the last time he had spoken those words. How very different everything had been then. “What is your name?”

“Millie. Millie King.” 

Well. Wasn’t that ironic?

“What’s your last name?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I don’t have one.” 

“What? But everyone has a last name!” 

Loki looked away. “I don’t have one, child. I don’t belong to any family.”

“Oh… that’s sad, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. I have much greater concerns in my current life.”

“Do you mean like how we’re in jail? I don’t know why I’m here. This is jail, right?” 

“Not exactly… you’re Mid - you’re from Earth, right?”

“Duh I’m from Earth, I’m not an alien!” 

Oh Norns. What in the Hel was she doing here? “Well, you’re not on earth anymore, dear…”

Her eyes expanded to the size of moons. “Wh-what?” 

“You’re in a realm called Asgard. And - I know you don’t have slavery on Earth anymore, but we do… and that’s why we’re here. I’m a slave, and I guess you are too - although I don’t know why, Asgard doesn’t enslave Midgardians… I mean - humans.” 

“You’re lying,” the girl accused. “Space travel is impossible and slavery doesn’t exist! Not anymore. You’re crazy, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here? You’re flipping crazy!” 

“I’m not crazy, I was enslaved for a horrible crime… usually that’s why people are enslaved here… I don’t know why you are here. It’s not what we usually do.” 

The girl pulled away from him and leaned against the wall in shock. “This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up in the hotel room with my parents tomorrow, and everything will be normal. God, please don’t let this be real!” She buried her head in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” said Loki uncomfortably, not knowing what else to do. “I don’t know how to help you.”

“Can you help me get home?” she asked, hope spreading over her face. 

“I… I don’t see how I can…” 

“But I have to get home!” she cried! “I don’t want to be a s-… a slave!”

“And you think I do?” Loki exclaimed. “None of us do, but there isn’t a choice! _Please_ don’t try to argue with the… guards… they’ll hurt you!” 

“Oh my God…” Millie whispered. “I don’t believe it…”

“Just sleep - you should sleep,” Loki urged. “I don’t know if they’ll treat you the same as the rest of us, but if they do, you’ll need your rest.” 

“Oh my God…” she said again, looking up at him with fear in her eyes. “Will you protect me? You won’t let me get hurt, will you?”

Loki felt a paralyzing hopelessness. Even if he tried, would he be able to protect her? The overseers and Enforcers certainly wouldn’t listen to him if he told them to stop; they’d only hurt him too. Could he bear to bring more pain on himself? Over the last year, he learned to avoid pain at all costs, to fear it more than anything else. To worry about himself and no other. Could he now look past that conditioning and put this young child’s needs first? Could he? He felt panic at the prospect. How could he do this? 

But as impossible as it seemed, it also seemed impossible _not_ to help this child, this Millie King. She was completely defenseless in a horrible situation in which she should never have found herself in the first place. She had no one else to help her. By the Norns, he didn’t know what he was going to do, but there wasn’t a choice. 

He had to do something.


	2. Chapter 2

When the screech of metal doors signaled that morning had come, Loki nearly got up and went about his day as he usually did. So accustomed was he to a never-ending routine of sameness and drudgery that he nearly forgot entirely about the Midgardian youth curled up against him. It was not until his rising to exit the cell prompted her to whimper that Loki was reminded of the girl Millie’s presence. Heart leaping in fear for more than one reason, he pulled her to her feet and led her stumbling from the room, knowing that if they did not quickly get in line to use the latrine, they would forfeit the opportunity. Things moved fast in the morning, and if a slave did not move swiftly or efficiently enough, there were consequences. Not pain necessarily, not so early in the morning when the Enforcers had yet to grow irritated, but there were many things that happened in quick succession, and when he’d first become a slave, Loki had many times lost the opportunity to wash, eat, or relieve himself because he had been unfamiliar with the routine. At least he could protect the girl from the same fate. 

Millie’s eyes were wide with fear, and her lips trembled as though she might cry at any moment. She looked so innocent, so unsuited for such an atmosphere, and it struck Loki that he didn’t know just how young she actually was. 

“How many years have you?” he asked quietly, trying not to draw attention from those around them. 

She looked at him like he was crazy. “What?” 

Oh. Right. Loki scrambled to come up with the correct Midgardian terminology. “How… old are you?” 

Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she answered, “Ten.”

 _Ten._ That was quite young, was it not? He quickly tried to figure out the equivalent age in Asgardian years. _Norns_ … He’d been right when he’d speculated that she’d not even experienced menarche. 

“Much too young,” he whispered to himself. 

“What?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. Come.” 

He guided her toward the line for the latrine, which fortunately had not yet grown very long. He quickly took care of his business, then waited for Millie to finish, afterwards directing her toward the line to wash. This was not a privilege they were afforded every day - Loki considered himself lucky if he got to wash once per week - but today happened to be one of those days, and it was just as well, because Millie could learn the routine right away. It was a fleeting process - each slave, after undressing, received a rag to dip in soapy water and briefly drag across their body before donning their clothing again and hurrying to the mess line. Loki went through the familiar motions of rushing through a wash, but again waited for Millie rather than immediately moving on. This earned him some strange looks from slaves who did not understand why he would act in such a self-deprecating way. 

But Millie attracted a fair share of staring as well, even more so than himself. New slaves being unaware of the ropes was nothing alien, but it was unheard of to find a child in this situation. No one had paid her much mind the night before, as they’d been sleeping or trying to do so, but now that it was morning, Loki saw everything from surprise to confusion to horror on their comrades’ faces. There were some who barely glanced at her, of course. The indifference necessary to many in order to survive was not easily penetrated.

Millie, who had not at all been comfortable removing her clothes in public, emerged from the wash shivering and in tears. She’d given him a terrified look when he told her she must take her clothes off, but he’d somewhat gruffly insisted that she do so immediately. It pained him to speak to her that way, but the alternative - allowing her to obstruct the routine and thereby draw attention to herself - was much worse. 

They remained silent as they received their food, just a stale roll of bread with a few dots of mold. Millie made a face and allowed the hand holding the bread to fall into her lap, away from her mouth. 

Loki grabbed her wrist. “Eat it,” he pressed. “There won’t be anything else until nightfall, and if you don’t eat quickly, someone may take it from you.” 

She whimpered. “I can’t! This is gross!” 

“Eat!” he hissed anxiously. “Hurry, we do not have long!” 

Face crumpling, Millie squeezed her eyes shut and brought the bread to her mouth. She cringed at the unpleasant taste, but thankfully continued to eat. She took her time on the first bite, clearly wishing it weren’t in her mouth, but afterwards she seemed to decide that chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible was the best strategy. She finished just as the overseers began rounding up the slaves to begin the day’s work.

“Stay close to me!” Loki urged, eyes darting around nervously. He really didn’t want to attract any attention; that could only be problematic for both of them. 

But no sooner had Millie scooted close to him, than the shadow of an Enforcer loomed over them. “This one comes with me.” 

“No!” Loki could hardly believe the syllable had left his mouth, but it undoubtedly had, because anger darkened on the man’s face. Growling, he threw Millie to the side. Loki heard her cry out but his moment of defiance had left him breathless with terror. He couldn’t do anything else but watch the Enforcer draw closer to him. He was a big one, heavy set and burly. He grabbed Loki by the collar and lifted him, causing him to wheeze for breath. 

“ _What did you say?_ ” 

“Please,” Loki begged, “Let her s-stay with me. She’s young; s-she should be with a familiar face.”

Of course the real reason was that he wanted to protect her, but the Enforcer would undoubtedly refuse his request if _that_ were the rationale he offered. 

“You think I care for something so inconsequential? Shut your mouth and get in your own line!” The Enforcer snarled. He shoved Loki away, grabbing Millie by the arm and dragging her toward a work detail different than his own. 

“No, please, wait!” 

Loki tried frantically to follow them, but then there were cold hands around his torso, enclosing him with a restraining grip that was firm and unshakeable. He tried to pull away, to run after Millie as the Enforcer hauled her away, but the hands held him back and a voice whispered urgently in his year, “Stop! Stop fighting! She’ll not be harmed, now stop!”

“Get off!” he cried. “She’s just a child; she shouldn’t be here! I have to help!” 

“Oh for Norns’ sake,” the voice muttered. Then Loki felt himself roughly twisted around and found himself staring into the face of a slave, one that he’d seen before. He knew that face; it was the former Enforcer, the one that Thor had punished after witnessing him hurt his enslaved brother. 

“You!” Loki gaped at the man, whose face reddened, as if embarrassed to be recognized for what he had once been. 

“Yes, me. Brilliant observation. Now will you listen?” 

“Listen?” Loki asked incredulously. “That poor Midgardian girl needs protection; I can’t just leave her!” 

“As if you could even protect an insect in your state.” scoffed the Enforcer-turned-slave. “You can leave her, and you will. Now, _listen_ damn it!” 

“Fine,” Loki muttered, shoving him off. The derisive comment had actually stung at his pride, a feeling he’d not experienced in quite some time, and the feeble nature of his efforts to free himself did nothing to counter that reaction. But the slave did release him.

“Speak,” Loki said.

The man took a breath. “I am Einarr - you know of course who I am - was - and why I’m here. But you don’t know about what’s been planned - ” 

“Planned?” Loki’s brows shot up. 

“Yes. After I was… enslaved,” he began, face twisting in pain at the memory, “Several of my colleagues ceased to view slavery as they once had. It became personal to them. They have a face and a friend to associate with the… treatment… of slaves.” He paused for a moment, curling his lip in distaste. “Of course there were those who disowned me as well. Said it was my own fault that this happened to me. So there may be a lack on consensus… But there is _resistance_ now; underground opposition, as it were.”

Loki squinted at him, not comprehending the meaning of it all. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this girl is part of a plan to make all of this go away. To end slavery in Asgard.”

“Are you telling me that a _child_ was kidnapped to advance an agenda?! She has done nothing to deserve this - ”

“No, she hasn’t,” interrupted Einarr. “I don’t know how she got here - the plan developed after she turned up - but she shouldn’t be here. And that’s _exactly_ why this will work. It’s easy to disregard the rest of us as worthless, but a child? That will be impossible for the free folk to ignore. This could be an opportunity to let Asgard see slavery as it really is.”

“But what of her safety in the meantime? You can’t leave her vulnerable! She’ll be hurt!”

“No she will _not_. Those Enforcers who sympathize with me have agreed to watch over her, to make sure she’s given only the easiest of assignments and the most lenient of overseers. There may be some bribery involved, I understand…”

“How can you be certain she won’t be harmed?” 

“I can’t,” Einarr answered shortly. “But I trust my mates. If they say she’ll remain unharmed, then I’m confident it will be so.” 

Loki stared at him uneasily. “I’m not quite sure what to feel.” 

“Don’t think about it. Just go on with your business and don’t make a scene.” 

“Forgive me for caring about the welfare of a child,” Loki said sardonically. 

Einarr sneered back at him. “That’s a funny thing to hear, coming from you. How many children died when you invaded Midgard?” 

Loki was silent. He felt the redness of shame creeping into his cheeks, for once not because of his appearance or status. 

“You didn’t care so much then, I’d wager. Find that in yourself and let this plan go forward. It’s what’s best for all of us.” 

After a moment of silence, Loki nodded. He wasn’t happy about this, not at all, but it didn’t seem that he had much of a choice. He didn’t really believe, couldn’t afford to believe, that slavery would ever be eradicated, but if there was the smallest chance that it might be… and if Millie would truly be safe… then he supposed it could be worth it. 

But if something _did_ happen to Millie, he thought to himself a few minutes later as an overseer escorted him to his work assignment, he’d never forgive himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday is this month, so I'm giving you all a present! Is that not how it works? No? Oh well, writing for you all is a gift anyway :) Enjoy this new chapter! I mean, it's pretty dark, but what else would you expect? It seems to keep you all coming back. The series will end on a lighter note, as you may have predicted, but until then... you'll just have to wait! 
> 
> You all rock.

Loki tried to take Einarr’s advice into account; he really did. He knew all too well that nothing good could ever come from being distracted, especially for a slave. Yet he seemed capable of nothing but worrying over Millie’s condition and wondering what might be happening to her. 

And to make matters worse, his work was suffering for it. Though he tried desperately to maintain his focus, his thoughts kept returning to Millie. He didn’t feel that he could take Einarr at his word. After all, the man had every reason to want revenge on Loki for what Thor had done to him. What if he was lying, and the child was being horribly mistreated? What if she returned to their cell that night covered in blood and bruises? _Please, let her be placed in my cell again…_ He wouldn’t sleep a single moment if he wasn’t able to confirm whether she was alright, and losing sleep when he was already starving and exhausted never did him any good. Perhaps he wouldn’t sleep much better if Millie _were_ there, but he’d have a better chance of it at least…

A sharp smack across the face brought him back to reality. 

“You’d better not be shirking your duties, boy!” barked a particularly ugly overseer, his stringy, sand-colored hair failing to distract from his massive, chunky nose. Loki flinched away from him. “N-no, master.” 

“Then get to it, or you’ll pay for it in skin!”

“Yes, master.” Loki hurriedly turned back to the task at hand, his beating heart thudding much too vigorously against his chest. He had to keep his focus. He _had_ to. _You can still think about the child,_ he told himself. _But you must keep working as well. Focus, focus, **focus**._

He wondered if Millie was able to concentrate well. So often children were much more suited to freedom and creativity than structure and regimentation. Would Millie get herself into trouble due to daydreaming or distraction? Probably not daydreaming, he chided himself. She was experiencing an incredibly traumatic life event. Distraction was most likely inevitable, but idle daydreaming was improbable… 

Too late, Loki realized that he’d stopped working again. He heard it before he felt it. The overseer’s whip landed with a _crack_ on the back of his right shoulder, the shriek it had made when whistling through the air seeming to reverberate throughout the halls. 

“I’ll teach you not to disregard my orders, boy,” the overseer snarled, pulling him up by his ragged tunic. 

“Please, I’m sorry, please don’t!” Loki begged, clutching at the hands that held him in a futile attempt to free himself. But all he received for his efforts was another blow to the face. 

“Too late for that now, slave! I won’t have laziness on my watch.”

The overseer dragged Loki away from the work site, and while Loki didn’t struggle too fiercely, he dreaded what was about to happen. He knew he was about to be flogged, because not only did his offenses warrant such a punishment under the Asgardian slave code, but this particular overseer was also rumored to be particularly fond of the lash. 

Tears fell from his unwilling eyes as his captor propelled him through the corridors. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so terribly stupid? He’d spent _months_ learning how to be a good slave so as to _avoid_ situations such as this. What was it about this child that suddenly impelled him to negate the self-preservation techniques he’d slowly and painfully acquired? Normally his wish to avoid punishment overrode all other thoughts and desires, yet his behavior on this day had been exactly the opposite of that which would be most likely to spare him pain. His conduct had been completely irrational. For no matter how many times he’d been beaten, he’d never been able to stop fearing the pain…

When they reached the punishment room, Loki was herded toward a wall and shackled tightly to one of the iron rings attached there. Then he felt his tunic ripped from his back, causing the stripe he’d already received to flare up in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited, powerless to prevent the impending torture. 

The first stroke landed horizontally across the middle of his back, creating another angry line of red to match the first. Loki whimpered, but by biting his lip he managed to prevent any further noise from escaping him. The sound he let out after the next blow, though, was of a higher pitch, and by the fifth lash, he was crying audibly. He clenched his fists, barely conscious of his nails digging into his palm, and willed the punishment to end soon. But laziness among slaves was not taken lightly, and fifteen lashes later, Loki was still crying out at every stripe he received. Mercifully, the overseer ceased the assault after another ten blows, leaving Loki sobbing and barely able to remain on his feet. As soon as the shackles were undone, he collapsed upon the stone below, the pain in his kneecaps when they met the ground barely registering compared to the searing waves of agony pulsating down his back. 

“Up!” snapped the overseer, and despite his pitiful condition, Loki struggled to his feet, knowing that the alternative would result in much worse an outcome. 

He felt himself shoved forward, and he couldn’t help but cry out, stumbling toward the wall to lean heavily against it as he pushed himself toward the doorway. A kick from behind propelled him out of the room, sending him skidding across the floor. Then a strong hand hauled him up and left him swaying on unsteady feet. “You’d better remain upright,” a menacing voice threatened, “And keep it moving.” 

Loki focused all his attention on staying on his feet, on placing one foot in front of the other, but there were so many obstacles working against him. Even if the scars of past floggings had left him with diminished sensation in his back, the deep, bleeding stripes still hurt a startling amount. Every labored step sent pain spiking through his body, threatening to send him into unconsciousness. His vision was fuzzy and growing steadily dimmer, and he suddenly became aware that he was on the ground. Pulses of stronger pain told him that someone was kicking him, but he couldn’t make out who, and it hardly mattered… Eyelids fluttering, he caught a glimpse of a servant woman ogling at him in horror. _She looks like one of mother’s_ , he thought, and that was the last thing to cross his mind before he slipped into darkness. 

 

*****

 

Thor groaned as a manservant produced yet another set of armor for him to try on. “By the Norns, how many breastplates must I sample? The people will love me the same regardless of what I wear.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Frigga replied apologetically. “But this is to be the most important day of your life; possibly the most important day you or anyone in Asgard will ever experience. Your rank requires that you meet certain standards.” She reached out to adjust the helmet that Thor had just placed on his head, smiling at him as she did so. “I want nothing but the best for my son.”

Thor made a face, feeling momentarily as though he were a boy once more. “I understand, of course,” he grumbled. “But I do wish the preparations for this ceremony would not place such demands on my time. Now and again I wish I could forgo the proceedings altogether!” 

The Queen gave him a look. 

“I jest, I jest, Mother!” Thor insisted. Even though an angry Frigga would pose no physical threat to him, he still did not wish to give her cause to be displeased with him. Thankfully, his mother’s face melted back to warmth, and she reached out a hand to lovingly touch his cheek. 

“I know you are ready for this, Thor. I have watched you grow these several years past, and I know you will rule justly and wisely. And I am proud. Words cannot express the scope of my pride. 

Thor drew her into a hug, allowing himself despite his manliness to relish the feel of her arms around him. “I could not have done it without your care and guidance, Mother,” he stated honestly, planting a kiss on her forehead. 

Frigga opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so, a servant woman burst into the room, panting as though she had run a long distance. Thor recognized her as one of his mother’s personal maids. 

Frigga looked alarmed. “What is it, Birgitta?” 

Looking quite shaken, the woman drew close to the queen to initiate a whispered exchange. Thor could only furrow his brow in confusion, ignorant as to what was transpiring. He grew concerned, though, when he saw Frigga’s hand spring to her mouth as if she had just heard something horrible. 

“Oh my,” he heard her say. “Oh no…” 

_Loki_ Thor realized suddenly, and dread filled him as rapidly as raging flood waters. What could have happened to frighten this servant so? 

“Mother what is it?” he asked her urgently. Anxiety swelled in his chest, expelling any impatience he might have felt before. Suddenly clothing was the last thing on his mind. 

Frigga glanced back at him, her face frightfully pale. “Will you have him brought here?” he heard her say to the servant. The woman nodded and hurried off. 

Thor swiftly crossed the room to his mother’s side. “It’s Loki, isn’t it? Has something happened? Is he hurt?”

Frigga looked up at him in anguish. “Birgitta was walking between wings of the palace when she passed a group of slaves on an assignment… There was a… man, who’d just been beaten, and… and…” With a sob, she buried her face in her hands. 

“And?” Thor took her by the shoulders, needing to hear the rest. 

“And… the overseers were harassing him; it seemed they were displeased with his work, and when the man looked up… Oh, Thor, it was Loki!”

Thor felt his gut wrench in despair at the confirmation of his suspicions. This was horrifying news, but he found himself wondering how many times Loki had undergone it before. Was this an anomaly, or was it no different from what he went through on a regular basis? It was a disturbing question. 

He should have tried to comfort his mother, to act the man and pretend himself unaffected, but in truth he was quite shaken. Stumbling away from Frigga, he made his way to a stool and sat down, not bothering to move the items of clothing that still lay upon it. 

When he’d seen Loki several months ago, he’d been damaged by the extended time he’d spent in slavery, but hadn’t particularly had any current wounds apart from the broken nose. But it sounded as though that was presently not the case. It had been so hard to see Loki in such condition last time. Would this time be even worse?

Caught up in his contemplation, Thor’s head shot up when he heard a rustling at the door. His heart stopped at the sight of Loki, who was slumped between two manservants. He did not appear to be conscious, and there were drops of blood trailing behind them from where his back had dripped onto the floor below. Thor could not yet see Loki’s wounds, but he felt completely nauseous at the mere thought of how they might look. 

“L-lay him here,” Frigga said faintly, gesturing with shaking hands toward an upholstered bench at the end of the bed. Her complexion was deathly pale. 

The servants silently did as they were bid, carefully setting Loki facedown on the soft, gold-embroidered bench. Frigga immediately called for wet rags to be brought to her, then hurried to her son’s side, gasping at the damage of his mangled back. “Shall I help you?” Thor asked her as she made to dab at the wounds. He wasted no time in kneeling to tend to Loki when she nodded yes. As he dipped a cloth in the bowl of water they’d been given, Loki moaned. Frigga cringed and tears came to her eyes. 

“I only touched him gently,” she whispered. 

“It’s ok,” Thor murmured helplessly. “I don’t think it can be helped.” 

But of course nothing was okay. No one should have to witness this happening to their son, to their brother, let alone undergo this treatment themselves. The words of reassurance he spoke did not match his inner torment.

Choking back a sob, Thor lightly dabbed at one of the numerous welts that patterned the fair skin. Loki cried out softly in response to every touch, but eerily he didn’t move at all. It was almost as if he could not. 

They worked in silence as they tended to their patient, though Thor winced at every sound his brother made. He wasn’t sure what made him feel the worst - was it the lash marks on Loki’s back? The eerie disconnect between his moans and his lack of movement? That Thor should never have allowed this to happen to his brother in the first place? 

He could tell as they worked that Frigga felt equally sickened. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she ignored them, prioritizing her son’s needs over her own emotions. When they’d cleaned the wounds as best they could, she suggested they wash the rest of him as well, as it was likely that some blood had slipped beneath the waistband of his torn trousers. Thor was unprepared for the implications of this, however, as it required them to remove Loki’s pants. Thor had intended to grant his brother as much modesty as possible, but his eyes took notice of what had been taken, and he had no choice but to stare in horror. 

“Wh-what? What is this? I…” 

Frigga choked back a sob. “Did you not know? Did you not expect?”

Thor scrambled helplessly to find the right words. “I - I had heard, of course, but I didn’t expect… I could never expect _this_ … my brother… Oh, norns!” For a moment he lost control, powerless to stop the tears sliding down his face. 

Frigga closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, shedding tears of her own. She did not attempt to comfort him. She herself felt too much grief in that moment. 

Thor managed to get a grip on himself and stole another brief glance at Loki, nausea rising up within him. 

“Why have they… why did they not take… all… of it?”

“It is my understanding that it was once the custom to cut everything,” Frigga answered, disgust unmistakable on her face. “But that resulted in… complications… It was not _practical_ , you see…

“It matters not…” Thor said sickly, “This is still… I cannot believe… how can this have happened… to _Loki_?

Frigga’s eyes welled up with tears. “I know,” she said, fiercely wiping her eyes with one hand and pulling Loki closer with the other. “The last time he was here, he told me not to heal his back, lest I return the sensation he has lost.” 

Thor looked at her in alarm. “What?” 

“It is more horrible than I can comprehend,” she agreed. “He has been beaten so often that the scars have thickened, dulling the pain.” 

“We must not allow this to continue!” Thor growled, turning away with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “How can we let this happen to him? Damn the Allfather! I won’t stand for this any longer; I cannot!” 

“Thor,” Frigga said softly. 

“Do you disagree?” Thor demanded. 

“You know how this pains me, Thor. Don’t question even for a moment whether I disapprove of this! Whatever you feel as a brother, I as a mother feel five times stronger. He is my son! My child! I would do anything to protect him…” 

“And yet you do not.” 

“I lack the authority!” Tears spilled from Frigga’s eyes. “I fear there is nothing I can do for him, and that makes all of this even harder. Odin’s word is law…” 

“But you say Loki has been here before? When?” 

“I initially saw him perhaps ten weeks ago, and I swore it wouldn’t be the last time… I managed to see him in secret on two other occasions, but I’ve seen grown so busy with coronation planning…” She looked completely ashamed and did not meet Thor’s eye. “I sought him out because I’d been failing him, yet now I continue to do so.” 

Thor winced. “You’ve not failed him as badly as I. I’ve seen him but once.” It was obviously a true statement, but though Frigga must have agreed to a degree, she had the grace not to confirm it. She didn’t seem to have any intention to speak, so Thor commented,

“You never mentioned interacting with Loki.” 

“I didn’t want to upset you. You’d only act rashly, and rash actions won’t help him.” 

Thor’s jaw clenched. “I’m of a mind to commit some ‘rash actions’ right here and now! Seeing my brother like this… Witnessing what he’s been through!”

“You mustn’t!” Frigga urged. “Thor, it would only anger the Allfather.”

“What kind of father condemns his son to _this?_ Thor snarled. 

Frigga shook her head. “I understand that Odin did not wish to sentence Loki to death - how could I not? But I do not know how he can live with the alternative he chose.” 

She hesitated, looking at each of her sons. 

“Thor,” she began carefully. “I do not want to give you false hope, but there may be a chance that slavery in Asgard is on the verge of a decline.”

Thor looked at her quizzically. “What? What do you mean?” 

Frigga seemed to weigh her words carefully before responding. “There is a child… living among the slaves.” 

“What?” Thor practically roared. “Asgard has never enslaved children!”

“We have not, and yet I have heard reports of a Midgardian slave girl, still years away from womanhood - ”

“ _Midgardian?_ ”

“Yes.” 

“But what is she doing here? Why would a Midgardian child be enslaved in this realm?”

“I do not know,” Frigga confessed. “But already I have heard whispers of unease circulating among the servants and other inhabitants of the palace. What they seem able to overlook in the case of adults suddenly appears heinous when applied to a child.” 

Thor was silent for a moment. “I know not what to make of this news.” 

“It may be that nothing will come of it,” Frigga acknowledged. “But perhaps this particular miscarriage of justice will open the people’s eyes to the truth of what they have been supporting all these years.” 

Thor breathed deeply. He could hardly dare to hope for something such as this, not when the alternative - the eternal enslavement of his brother - was so devastating. And in any case, would freedom truly be so liberating for Loki? He was so changed, so traumatized… As were the rest of the slaves, more than likely. 

“So many lives have been ruined…” he muttered sickly, “And I was blind to it for so long.” 

Frigga placed a hand on his arm. “You did not question slavery because to you it was a fact of life. It was something that existed, but did not affect you.”

“But I am the heir to Asgard!” he insisted, pulling away from her. “I must be able to look beyond myself, to anticipate the needs of my subjects! I have failed the realm through my selfishness.” 

“Blaming yourself now will serve no worthy purpose,” Frigga told him. “You cannot undo the past, as much as we may sometimes wish we could. And in any case, soon you will be Asgard’s king, able to rule the realm as you wish.” 

“Yes,” Thor said shortly. “But not soon enough.” He stole a final glance at his battered brother before sweeping from the room without another word, unable to stomach any more of this horrific scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be posted in about two months.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this chapter includes the aftermath of mild child abuse.

The day after the beating, Loki’s performance improved simply because he was too exhausted to think about anything at all. He went through the motions because he had no choice, but in truth he had absolutely no energy. The day went by in a sort of haze. He was fully conscious in the sense that his vision was clear, but his brain felt fuzzy in a way, as if he wasn’t really present. Though the overseers didn’t care what went on in his head so long as he did his work, so that hardly mattered. 

He remembered very little from the day before. He could recall the whipping and his struggles immediately following, but he didn’t remember ever returning to the cells, and he had never learned how Millie had fared. Memories of his time with Frigga and Thor were also scarce. He had been aware of their presence, but in his semi-conscious state had not been capable of processing their speech. The pain was too all-encompassing to even try. 

In retrospect, he lamented that he’d been in such poor condition. It was a lost opportunity for a rare interaction with Frigga. How many times had he wished for his mother as he lay moaning in a slave cell over the past year? Yesterday he’d had her, for the first time in weeks, and he’d not even been able to appreciate it. 

Their care of his injuries had made a considerable difference, though. Normally the blood would dry and harden on his back, leaving scabs that cracked open anew with every stiff movement he made. But Frigga and Thor had cleaned him well, and while the lashes did throb, it was not to the same degree as a typical beating. 

_A typical beating,_ he thought to himself. _What has my life come to that I that I have an established standard for a **normal** beating?_ Not for the first time, he cursed himself for ever invading Midgard, for the jealous, selfish stupidity that had condemned him to this life. He generally tried to avoid thinking of his crimes, as it only added to his misery, but sometimes it could not be helped. They were, after all, the reason he found himself in this terrible situation. But at least the aftermath of this beating wasn’t so intolerable. That he could be thankful for, even if he would have preferred more quality time with Frigga. 

All in all, today was not a bad day. He hurt less than he otherwise might, and while he was exhausted, it kept him from dwelling on the things that worried him. And working through exhaustion was nothing foreign to him. Not these days. 

So he carried on with his dusting, which was thankfully a mindless task, and waited until night when he would be able to stop and rest. 

*****

By the end of the day, Loki was no more awake or alert, but Millie had managed to creep back into his mind. She was more of a shadowy presence deep within his consciousness now, but it was prominent enough for him to feel guilt, guilt for bringing punishment upon himself. He wouldn’t be able to protect her if he didn’t maintain his health and his strength as much as possible. It had been selfish of him to worry so much. The obsessive worry that had earned him his punishment had been emotion he’d needed to indulge in, but it hadn’t been what _Millie_ needed him to feel. His concern hadn’t helped her; it had only placed her in greater danger, because he had placed his capability of protecting her at risk. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

To his immense relief, Millie seemed completely unharmed when he saw her that night in the cells. She still looked pale and scared, but he couldn’t see any visible marks on her. She did, however, burst out crying when she saw him. “You’re okay!” she cried. “You looked so bad last night, I was scared you were gonna die!” 

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmured, taking her into his arms even though he nearly gasped when her arms wrapped around him, causing the cloth of his tunic to rub against the fresh wounds. “That must have been a terrible shock.” 

Millie sniffed. “I was so afraid you’d die… You’re my only friend here. I don’t think I could do this without you.” 

“I’m sure you could,” Loki said, trying to think of words that might make her feel better. Comforting children was not his area of expertise, especially not when he’d spent nearly a year focusing exclusively on himself out of sheer necessity. “After all, look at you, you’ve been just fine the past two days.” 

A look of confusion crossed Millie’s face. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Other people got hit, but no one touched _me_. Or even really talked to me. I just had to dust a bunch of stuff, which wasn’t too bad cuz that’s one of my chores at home anyways. I’m really hungry though…” 

“Me too,” Loki said softly. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.” 

“I’ve never been so hungry. It hurts. A lot.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and huddled into herself. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said again, feeling rather stupid. There was really nothing else he _could_ say. 

Hunger was a perpetual torture for him as well, especially since he’d been deprived of sufficient sustenance far longer than she, but as he lay down to sleep that night, it was feelings of powerlessness, not hunger, that plagued him most. They sat heavily in gut like a stone, sending a chill spiraling through his limbs and down his core that made him feel utterly worthless. The helplessness persisted until he succumbed to his exhaustion.

*****

Since he knew Millie had so far not been harmed, Loki was able to make it through the following day with some degree of ease. He was assigned to work in the gardens, which could often be unpleasant if it was quite hot, but today was a cool and breezy day, so the air felt refreshing. With the weather in a favorable condition and the knowledge that Millie was alright, the hours passed rather seamlessly. He could barely remember the last time he’d had such a painless day, in fact. One of the overseers on duty was extremely strict and known for his unwarranted punishments, but with his mind clear, Loki was able to focus on his work to an extent that allowed him to perform well. 

So he was in a fairly good mood that evening when the day’s labor concluded. Of course he was still hungry and tired and dirty and sore, but his standards for a good day had lowered considerably since his enslavement, and a day so free from strife was most certainly one of good fortune. Even a disappointingly small dinner helping couldn’t dull his mood as he returned to his cell, looking forward to seeing the Midgardian girl. 

Millie smiled when she saw him, but Loki’s face quickly darkened when he saw a purple bruise covering nearly the entirety of her left cheek. “Who did this?” he snarled. “What have they done to you?” 

“Oh… I don’t know, one of the men in charge told me to do something and I guess I did it wrong…” 

Loki gritted his teeth. “Einarr promised that no harm would come to you.”

“Eye-nar? Who’s that?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Well, I mean, another guy did yell at the guy who hit me.” 

“Someone _yelled_ at him?” Loki asked in shock. 

“Oh, not a… slave…” Millie said, stumbling uncomfortably with the word. “Another one of the ones who watch us all the time.” 

“An overseer.” 

“Yeah, that.” 

Loki didn’t respond. Perhaps Einarr hadn’t been wrong then. It was surely one of the fallen Enforcer’s ‘friends’ who had chastised the overseer that hit her. 

“Well,” he said. “I’m very sorry it happened. Does it hurt?” 

“Yeah it does,” Millie winced, raising a hand to gingerly press at her cheek. “It hurts when I open my mouth too wide.” 

Loki clenched his jaw so hard that his own mouth began to hurt. “It won’t happen again.”

Millie looked down, eyes heartbreakingly full of despair. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Loki said emphatically, almost aggressively. He lifted her chin so that she would meet his eyes. “I won’t let any further harm come to you.” 

A brief “thanks” was the only response. He could tell Millie didn’t believe him. He could tell from the way she curled up into herself, from the way her eyes remained devoid of light. Devoid of hope. 

Angrily, Loki stood up and went over to the bars at the front of the cell. The worst part was that he knew Millie had no reason to believe in him. What could he do? A mere _slave_ , protecting another slave? It was foolish to even think about. 

Loki pounded the bars in frustration, prompting surprised and indignant cries from more than a few of the cell’s other inhabitants. Would that he had his magic to blast out of this wretched prison, away from this cruel realm! All he’d ever wanted in life was to be treated fairly, and in return for seeking such treatment, Asgard now treated him outright _unforgivably_. And it was Odin, the man who more than anyone else had never treated him as an equal, who had sentenced him to this! Who had abandoned his supposed _son_ to a life of mistreatment! Who had forced him to humiliate himself, to publicly expose his shame during their first encounter since the onset of his thralldom!

He realized he was rattling the bars when a shock of pain flashed across his knuckles. An Enforcer had struck him. 

“I ought to come in there and thrash you, slave! What part of your tiny brain gave you the idea that you have the right to make such a racket? Hmm?” 

Loki stood as straight as he could, saying nothing but glaring at the Enforcer with enough intensity that it seemed to catch him by surprise. He wasn’t going to apologize for venting his outrage. Not when he’d been facing such horrific abuse for so long. He deserved an outlet. 

“You’d better back the fuck up,” the Enforcer growled, regaining his sense of control, “and if I hear one more sound from you, _just one_ , you’ll regret the day you were born.” 

Knowing not to push his luck, Loki began to back away, but he didn’t break eye contact. He could tell that the defiance in his expression was angering the Enforcer, but there wasn’t much the man could do. Loki was obeying, after all. 

He went back over to where Millie lay and crouched down, exhaling as he did so. Nothing had changed, but he inexplicably felt somewhat better. It was not until he caught sight of Millie staring at him with wide eyes that he realized why. For just a moment, he’d broken through the fearful shell that had formed around him since his sentencing. 

For the first time since he’d been beaten into submission one year ago, a bit of himself had just resurfaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't begun writing chapter 5 yet, but I hope to start and finish it next week. My goal is to post it by the end of January, but I can't make any promises - other than that I will do my best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh so my goal had been to post this chapter like 5 months ago... fail. But oh well! Here it is now! So excited to finally get this chapter published for you all!
> 
> I have not written any of chapter 6 yet, but I pretty much know everything that I want to happen in it, and I'm not in school right now, so I have lots of time to write! So I anticipate that the next chapter will be up much sooner this time!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me <3

On the outside, Frigga was perfectly composed - she always was. The Queen was the embodiment of grace itself, a mother figure to the citizens of Asgard. She was known for her ability to handle any situation, no matter how urgent or how distressing it was to those caught up in it. Many a time had she brought peace and comfort to her citizens, and they loved her dearly for it. 

But in truth, there lay much more beneath Frigga’s mask of composure than any would ever guess. Skilled as she was at performing under pressure, the scenarios came with just that - pressure. The Queen had many responsibilities, and failure was not an option. 

Presently, Frigga was knee deep in preparations for Thor’s coronation, which seemed to grow more numerous by the day. Thor had had his armor fitting by now, and Frigga had met with the steward to discuss quantity and placement of servants, but there still needed to be flags customized to hang at various places in the throne room, and arrangements needed to be made for the banquet that would feed thousands following the ceremony. Security details needed to be finalized, and a decision had to be made about where to seat noblemen and their wives. If they allowed the Asgardians to mix, regardless of social class, the noblemen might take offense, but seat them in front and it would destroy the illusion of reality that the coronation ceremony was supposed to invoke within the citizens of the realm. It was all manageable, but it was a lot to deal with, and there was limited time in which to deal with it. 

And of course, her other duties did not cease simply because of the impending celebration. She still had to oversee the daily operations of the household, as well as listen and respond to the problems and concerns of citizens, many of which hailed from more impoverished parts of the city. Frigga had great compassion for the poor and loathed to see them suffer, so she would never neglect that aspect of her duty, yet the increasing tension among the staff due to the increased workload detracted from the time she would ideally like to spend tending to the less fortunate. This would cause her a great deal of annoyance, but as things were, she scarcely had time to dwell on what she would prefer to be doing. She simply had to _do_. 

So when it had come to her attention that rooms had not yet been prepared for one of their valued guests, she was forced to halt her present undertakings and commence searching for the servant who should have been in charge of that. She could have sent Birgitta to take care of it, had she not already sent her off to carry out some other task that had spontaneously arisen earlier in the day. Astrid had fallen ill, and Runa was too new to her position to know whom she ought to seek out, leaving only Frigga to complete the task. 

It was for this reason that she now found herself whisking her way through the palace, checking various locations where the servant was likely to be. This was not Midgard, where technological devices allowed mortals to communicate with each other from a distance. Messages had to be carried on foot, and messengers could only estimate where their target might be. 

Today these estimations had brought Frigga from one end of the palace to the other, causing a line of sweat to form on her brow and robbing her ever so slightly of her breath. She had already tried the two most feasible places with no luck and now was heading toward a third, though she was not optimistic about her chances of success. Thus far she’d done an admirable job at staving off annoyance, but she knew it would not be long before irritation would settle under her skin, even if she didn’t show it. She just wanted to finish this task so that she might return to the seven other obligations awaiting her attention. 

In her state of concentration, she barely took notice of a group of slaves polishing a stair railing as she swept past, but suddenly, her motherly perceptions told her that her son was nearby. Frigga stole a glance to the side and abruptly found Loki staring back at her, rag in hand and face impassive. He seemed to look around for an overseer then casually began to work again, though his gaze did not leave Frigga. His companions were oblivious, not even noticing the Queen’s presence, but he seemed to have sensed his mother’s presence just as she had sensed his. 

Her search promptly forgotten, Frigga gave him a knowing look, which from the glint in his eye she could tell he understood. Then she walked away, slinking around the corner toward an alcove to which she knew he’d follow her once he’d found a believable excuse to do so. She thought she might be waiting a while, but Loki appeared within only a few minutes, approaching her silently with an expressionless face. 

“Will you get into trouble for this?” she asked him, looking worriedly over his shoulder. As much as she longed to see him, she did not wish him to suffer on her account. 

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “Or perhaps not. It is not important.” 

Frigga reached out a hand and brushed her fingers across some cuts on his face. There was another near his right eye that she dared not touch, as it looked too tender. 

“It’s nothing,” Loki told her. She gave him a look, so he sighed and added, “It’s futile to worry over such minor abrasions, but if you must know, I failed to show proper deference to an Enforcer two nights past.” 

“You don’t seem terribly affected by it,” Frigga observed. “When I saw you last, you would have trembled at the mere thought of provoking an Enforcer. But not now. What has changed?”

Loki was silent for a moment. “It is difficult to explain,” he said slowly. “For so long I have dreaded the prospect of pain to the point where there has been little I would not do to spare myself punishment. That has been my reality for months… but since Millie…” 

“Millie?” Frigga inquired. “The Midgardian girl?”

Loki looked at her quizzically. “You know about Millie?” 

“She’s caught the eye of many around the palace. People are confused. Concerned.” 

For a moment, Loki appeared inexplicably hopeful, but the look disappeared a second later, and he simply returned to his speech. “When I first saw her, I felt an overwhelming need to protect her. I can’t explain it; I’ve never felt anything like that before. But since that night, my drive to help the mortal child has given me a new strength. I’ve stood up to guards in ways that I haven’t dreamed of since I was beaten into submission. My fear is secondary to my indignation at her treatment. It makes little sense to me that I could so quickly change in such a short period of time… but I suppose Millie has provided me with a purpose beyond my fearful existence. That is the closest I can come to understanding the matter at present.”

Frigga pulled him into a hug, which he returned. “I am glad to see you less fearful, but now I fear in turn the repercussions that might befall you.” 

“I do seem to be attracting attention to myself.” 

Frigga drew back from him, gripping his shoulders with her hands. “ _Loki_ ,” she pleaded. “ _Please_ be careful! I understand your concern for the girl, and frankly I’m glad she has someone to stand up for her, but I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you! I have already seen you close to death, and I fear that if you maintain this rebelliousness, you may be killed.”

Loki touched his forehead to hers. “I am sorry for the pain my enslavement has caused you. Were it not for my own… actions… I would not be in this situation, nor would you have to witness it. I cannot guarantee that I will not continue to agitate, but I swear to you I will do all in my power not to go too far.” 

“Oh, Loki,” Frigga whispered, kissing his marred cheek. “I know you will. Your fortitude this past year has impressed me to no end.” 

“Fortitude?” Loki laughed bitterly. “I’ve been a trembling, cowardly wreck.” 

“But you’ve survived,” Frigga said firmly. “That in itself is something to hold onto. Not everyone could have suffered the fall you experienced and lived this long under such conditions.” She could tell Loki wanted to argue with her, but other than a frown, he kept it to himself. 

“I must be returning,” he said. “I won’t be able to explain away any longer of an absence.” 

Frigga nodded. “Of course. I have no wish to bring you harm.” She drew him into one last hug, feeling her heart twist as he squeezed her tightly. _You must let him go_ , she told herself. _Let go…_ Fighting against her instincts, Frigga released her son, allowing him to back away. He kept hold of her hand, and they did not break contact until the tips of their fingers parted. Loki gave her a sad smile, then turned away, head facing the ground as he shuffled back to his work detail. Frigga forced back tears as she watched him go. It was never easy letting him return to his horrible life, even if there were times he’d been in much worse condition when she’d had to do so. 

In the distance she heard the _slap_ of a hand meeting flesh, and she winced, knowing it was Loki paying the price for his slowness. With difficulty, she forced herself to walk away from her son and continue with her business. There was naught she could do to help him right now, and Thor’s coronation wouldn’t plan itself. 

*****

Thor was just about to settle down for a spell of rest when Frigga came to him. He’d spent a long afternoon sparring with Sif and the Warriors Three and had defeated them all soundly, which they’d grudgingly conceded. They were always good sports about it, even if Thor usually proved the most capable out of all of them. Despite his dominance, his companions never failed to put up a good fight, and he now found himself soundly worn out, as he often did after such activities. Upon returning to his room, he had devoured no fewer than seven quails and had every intention of collapsing into bed, but the knock at the door interrupted his plans. 

It surprised him that Frigga had personally come to his room, because it was more common nowadays that she would send him a note expressing a wish to speak with him sometime in the near future. Even with all the coronation preparations, they met at designated times in pre-arranged locations. This was somewhat of an anomaly. 

“Mother,” he greeted, regarding her curiously. 

“I have news of Loki.”

Thor’s heartbeat increased. “What is it? You do not appear upset, so I presume something terrible has not occurred?” 

“No,” she agreed. “The news I bring is actually somewhat encouraging.” 

Hope surged in Thor’s breast. “Let me hear it,” he urged. 

Frigga smiled. “Of course, darling. Why else do you think I’ve come?”

“Right. Yes, of course. I apologize, Mother. Go on.” 

The Queen took a seat upon one of the many luscious armchairs that adorned the room. “I spoke with your brother yesterday.” 

“Of what did you speak?” 

“I inquired about fresh markings on his face, and he told me he’d gotten them after showing disrespect to an Enforcer.” 

“Loki? Disrespect? I don’t see how the timid creature he has become could be capable of such behavior.” 

“That’s just it, my son. He _was_ disrespectful. Intentionally. And he did not seem at all bothered by the memory of his actions or the punishment that followed.” 

“Really?” Thor asked, shocked. “How can this be? How has this change come about?” 

“It seems that he has struck up a friendship with the Midgardian girl. The will to protect her has given him new life.” 

Thor opened his mouth then closed it again. As horrible as it was that a child had been enslaved in their golden realm, he was surprised to hear this about Loki. His brother had never shown a particular interest in children before, and with all the abuse in his life, Thor would have expected him to remain focused on his own survival even in the presence of one so innocent and vulnerable. 

“That is not what I would have expected,” he managed.

Frigga’s eyes narrowed. “You would not have expected your brother to bestow kindness upon another?”

“No,” Thor backtracked, quickly correcting himself. “My apologies, Mother. I did not mean that in the slightest. I simply did not think Loki held a passion for children.” 

Frigga sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “He has been greatly changed in the past year. I do not think we can predict his actions based upon the Loki we once knew.”

“No, I suppose you are right,” Thor agreed sadly. He looked past his mother, settling his gaze upon a tapestry that had hung upon his wall since he was a boy. Loki had always hated it and often told him so when they were young. He’d had a tendency toward hot-headedness even then, and they’d had more than a few wrestling matches right there on the ground beneath the tapestry. Thor always won the physical fight, but he’d been too immature at the time to recognize that in a sense, Loki too claimed a victory through his power to manipulate Thor’s emotions. The physical success was privileged in Asgard, of course, but Loki had his own talents, and Thor had frequently succumbed to them. How he wished he could go back in time and praise his brother for his cleverness!

But alas, he could not, and he deeply regretted it. So very deeply. 

Forcing the memories from his mind, Thor turned to face Frigga once more. “All is not lost, though, is it, Mother? Does not what you have seen prove that Loki can be restored to a more complete version of himself?” 

“Oh, Thor, I wish with all my heart for that to be true,” she murmured. “But what good will it do if it only sends the wrath of the guards raining down upon him?” 

“He will be able to live with himself again,” Thor answered firmly. “Can you imagine the shame he must feel? To go from a prince to a slave?” 

“Yes,” Frigga acknowledged. “You are right. Loki was always proud, even if underappreciated. He would never have wanted to end up like this.” 

Thor clenched his jaw. “I do not know if I can ever forgive Father for what he has done to Loki.” 

“Neither do I,” Frigga said quietly. “But he is my husband, and though it grows harder everyday, I am trying my best to understand.”

Thor gave her a hard look, but before he could respond, the door to his room flew open with a loud _bang_ , startling the both of them. He instinctively lunged for his sword, which he had discarded beside his bed, but Frigga grabbed his arm. His attention redirected, Thor looked up to see his mother’s maidservant in the doorway; the same one who had burst into Frigga’s room just days prior with news of Loki’s injuries. The situation this time appeared no less urgent, and the maid looked to be on the verge of tears. 

“Your Majesty!” she cried, eyes flitting wildly from Frigga to Thor and back again. “I don’t know what happened, but… oh, Your Majesty, it’s terrible! There was nothing I could do! I -”

“Birgitta, calm yourself,” Frigga ordered, letting go of Thor to lightly take hold of the servant’s shoulders. “What is it you are trying to tell me, dear?” 

A single tear slid down the girl’s cheek. “Loki,” she whispered, sending a chill down Thor’s spine. “He’s been taken to an isolation cell. They’ve condemned him to death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that ending, though...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to finally post this! I hope you enjoy. See the endnotes of Chapter 7 for an explanation/apology of why it took me so long to get these TWO new chapters out! (It was originally going to be one chapter, but I decided to break it up.)

The gnat flew in aimless circles through the dank air, the buzz of its rapidly vibrating wings inserting sound into an environment that was otherwise dead silent. It flitted between the walls, never resting for more than a few seconds before zooming away once more. The insect’s behavior was vaguely reminiscent of a mother frantically seeking her missing child. 

Loki wondered if that was how Frigga felt right now. 

The cell into which they’d tossed him was small, no more than five square meters - not that the size of the space was of any particular importance. Others in his situation might have paced in response to distress, apprehension, or whatever else a poor soul condemned to an imminent death might feel, in which case the cell’s size might have proved burdensome. But Loki had not moved once since his confinement there. He sat with his back against the damp wall, the moss clinging to the stone creating an ironically soft surface against which to lean, though he hardly felt it. Loki didn’t feel much of anything, except numbness. 

Although he knew exactly why he found himself in this predicament, it was still completely surreal. Despite all he’d been through, all the abuse and degradation, it had been a long time since Loki had thought about execution. He’d fully expected to eventually die from exhaustion, starvation, or an overly zealous beating, but not since his trial had he anticipated an official death at the hands of the realm. After all, he’d been so docile for the majority of his enslavement. In his fear and submission, there’d been no chance he’d commit such a grievous offense. 

Since Millie, though… everything had changed. _He’d changed_. He was not who he’d been before Midgard, before falling into the void, but nor was he anything close to the trembling, obedient slave he’d been for so long. What he’d told Frigga was true. Millie gave him purpose. She gave him the strength to stand up for himself, to regain a shred of dignity. To push aside the apprehension of inevitable punishment. 

He was not without fear now, however. It did not match the abject terror he’d once felt all but constantly, but it would be a lie for him to say he was unafraid. The sentence would most likely be carried out within a few days, which was the most distressing part. Before and during his trial, Loki had had weeks to prepare himself for what he believed to be an inevitable execution, but this time, everything was so sudden. 

He’d been stupid; it was as simple as that. After a year of having insults and invectives thrown at him incessantly, he should have learned not to react; not to let himself get angry. But the fear that had once ruled him no longer shielded him from rash action. 

And this particular comment had been directed at Millie. 

Had it been about himself, Loki could have gritted his teeth and suppressed his reaction. 

But when an Enforcer had made lewd comments about the body of a mere child - causing said child to become visibly distraught - Loki had snapped. His fist had connected with the Enforcer’s face almost before he was even aware of swinging his arm. And with that, his fate had been sealed. 

To attack an Enforcer was unthinkable. For one thing, it never happened - so conditioned were the slaves to expect pain for even the smallest offense that they would not dare raise a hand against a free person - but when it did, the punishment could only be death. A slave on whom the standard training proved ineffective was a liability and a danger. It must be put down, and swiftly. 

And indeed, that was what Loki now had to look forward to. 

Despite his fear, death would, in a way, be something of a release after all he’d suffered these twelve months. And anyway, there was no point in dwelling on the consequences of his actions. None of it could have happened any differently; not in light of the affection he held for Millie. He would essentially die protecting her, and that was not a bad way to go. 

But that did not mean he lacked regret. He regretted many things, particularly the effect his death would have on those he loved. No, he might not lament the loss of his own life, but to envision the pain his death would bring his family - and Millie - made his stomach twist in dread. But there was nothing he could do. 

And so he stayed where he was, the dampness of the mossy stone seeping into his meager tunic and sending a chill emanating through his bones. 

*****  
Thor had never seen Frigga so determined. She had always been a woman to pursue what she wanted and see it through to the end, but apparently she’d never wanted anything more than she now wanted to learn about her son’s condition. 

She’d gone deathly white when Birgitta told them the news, not from shock, but from absolute fury. Thor had never seen such a look upon her face. 

“ _No_. I will NOT abide this.”

And she swept from the room before Thor could even open his mouth to respond. 

Momentarily stunned, Thor came to his senses a second later and hurried to follow, his dismay at Birgitta’s news muted by Frigga’s sudden reaction. He felt sick; he felt horror; he felt denial at Loki’s apparent impending death, but he’d barely had time to properly register these emotions before Frigga added bewilderment to the mix. 

“Mother!” he called, struggling, despite his naturally long stride, to catch up with her. “Mother, wait! Where are you going?”

“We need to obtain more information about this,” she answered as Thor jogged up beside her. “We must learn more. If we’re going to fight this verdict, we need to be prepared.” 

“Prepared? Fight this? What do you intend to do?” 

“I’m going to visit the slave cells. Someone there will know what occurred, whether it be a slave or one of the brutes who torment them.” 

“What? Mother, are you sure - Mother, _slow down_!” 

“I’ll not wait any longer, Thor. I shall go with or without you,” the Queen said firmly, never once slowing her pace. 

Finally convinced that persuading her otherwise was hopeless, Thor ceased his protests and trailed her silently. 

The air grew steadily colder as they descended the grim stairs to the slave quarters. Though he certainly did not lack the body mass necessary to stay reasonably warm, Asgard’s Crown Prince felt a shiver run through him. Whether it was from the chill or what he was about to see, Thor couldn’t be certain. He had never ventured down here before.

Frigga marched into the dimly lit corridor as though she owned the place, not even so much as blinking at the Enforcers who gawked at her as she walked in. Their eyes widened further still as they saw Thor enter behind her. He stood up straighter, trying to hide his lack of confidence. He might be a male, but Frigga was the one in charge right now, and it would not help their case for him to appear weak. Appearances aside, however, he was quite uncomfortable. He avoided looking through the bars at the starving, emaciated figures, some of which stared up at Frigga and himself in shock. Thor reckoned that royal family members did not often descend this far beneath the palace. Perhaps it was the first time. 

Had Asgardian support for slavery endured through the ages because the monarchs of the realm had never deigned to educate themselves on the lives of those whose labor they exploited, whose dignity they denied? Would things be different had previous rulers bothered to stand where he and Frigga stood now? 

“I want to know what happened to my son,” the Queen demanded. 

Several Enforcers exchanged glances before one of them stuttered, “Y-your son? Your Majesty? Surely you don’t mean -”

 _”You know perfectly well who I mean,”_ Frigga snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. “He may be naught but a cur to you, but he’s still my boy, and he was once your prince, so don’t you dare insult me by feigning ignorance! I will know what has befallen my son, _now_ , or you will _all_ find yourselves dismissed from the royal staff!”

Thor counted eight stunned faces staring back at her, but none of them responded with the urgency of one facing impending unemployment. Frigga glared at them expectantly, but the guards seemed shocked into silence. Just when Thor was sure his mother’s patience wouldn’t last a moment longer, someone spoke.

“I saw what happened.” 

The voice came not from the one of the brutish jailers, but from within one of the cells. It sounded vaguely familiar, and Thor squinted to try and find its source. A face appeared from the darkness, haggard and worn, but with a trace of self-assurance remaining. 

Without hesitation, Frigga surged forward, pressing herself into the bars of the cell. Several slaves drew back, frightened at her sudden movements. But the Queen of Asgard paid attention only to the one who had spoken. “Tell me,” she demanded. 

Despite his relative degree of confidence, the slave’s eyes flitted nervously to the guards. Thor realized suddenly that this was the man he’d ordered enslaved for mistreating Loki some time ago, when he’d seen Loki in captivity for the first time… 

The slave, once an Enforcer himself, leaned in toward Frigga and whispered something, something that Thor was unable to hear. Whatever it was, he clearly did not want his captors to overhear. 

Glancing over the slave’s shoulder, Thor felt a jolt of shock to find himself looking at a child. _That must be her…_. The Midgardian girl was hovering just behind the former Enforcer, staring at the ground with a miserable look on her face. She was tiny, much smaller than he had envisioned her. Her eyelids were puffy from crying, and even as he looked at her, she sniffled. To see her suffer so nearly brought tears to his eyes, and he quickly redirected his gaze in order to suppress the reaction. No matter how justified his sorrow might have been, this was not the time or the place for tears. Crying would not fix injustice, nor would it leave a favorable impression on the subjects over whom he would soon rule. 

He forced his attention elsewhere, turning instead back to his mother and the Enforcer. They whispered to each other for quite a while; such a long time, in fact, that Thor began to wonder how he could possibly stand to remain in this environment much longer. When she finally did withdraw, Frigga shot away from the cell bars as if burned by their metal surfaces. From where he stood, Thor could see that her expression contained not only the same determination as before, but now also unambiguous fury. 

Seeing her reaction, one of the Enforcers stepped forward, clearly believing he’d spotted an opportunity for redemption. “If that filth has offended you, Your Majesty, I’d be more than happy to - ”

“Do not speak to me,” Frigga ordered coldly, sending the Enforcer’s self-assurance tumbling away, “Lest you impel me to do something most unbefitting my rank!”

Then she picked up her skirts and swept from the room without further ado, leaving a room full of stunned faces behind. As for Thor, he found himself chasing after the Queen for the second time that day. 

“Mother, wait!” he cried. “What has angered you so? What did he say to you?” 

This time, Frigga did stop, whirling around so suddenly that Thor nearly collided with her. He found himself taken aback by the fire in her eyes; never before had he seen her like this. Frigga held his gaze for a moment before answering him, speaking five words that sent a chill traveling down Thor’s spine. 

_”Odin knows about the child.”_


	7. Chapter 7

_The child?_

Hadn’t they visited the cells to inquire about Loki?

“Mother, wait!” Thor called again, starting to feel as if the words were meaningless. “You intend to speak with Odin? What do you hope to accomplish? He will not listen; he has made that clear!” 

“And now I shall speak plainly with him!” Frigga exclaimed, finally whirling around to face the future King. “I care not what he thinks his duty may be or what he feels must be done to maintain the legitimacy of our authority. Loki is his _child_ , and if he will not agree to spare our son from an unjust death, then I will have nothing more to do with him!” 

Thor understood the anger toward his Father, for it was an anger that he had often shared as of late, but nonetheless Thor felt a wave of panic rise anew inside of him. Never before had he heard either of his parents speak of separating from each other, and it was a potential unfamiliarity he did not wish to experience. Thereafter, anxiety silenced the Crown Prince, and he resorted to following his mother as if he were a little blonde schoolboy once more. He accompanied her once more up the many flights of stairs they had so recently descended, walking the familiar route that led to the vast bedroom shared by his mother and father. 

The wooden desk at which Odin sat had been artfully crafted, its intricately carved designs accented with gold. He was studying what ironically appeared to be an official document sent from Vanaheim, Frigga’s homeland; a document that he set aside when he saw them enter. He did not seem particularly surprised to see them; in fact, his face took on a look suspiciously close to resignation, mouth open slightly as if in a permanent sigh. 

Frigga didn’t give him a chance to address them. 

“You,” she said aggressively, “had better explain yourself, _now_. For far too long I’ve submitted to your sick whims when it comes to the treatment of our son, and now I’m _finished_. 

She paused a moment, chest heaving. A lock of golden hair that had strayed from her normally immaculate up-do stood in stark contrast to her reddened cheek. 

“I _demand_ to know why you have done nothing to halt the death sentence of our son. I _demand_ to know how a _child_ came to be enslaved in our realm. And I _demand_ to know why you have allowed these situations to persist even for an hour, let alone days!”

Thor observed this rant with tension in his every muscle. He had seen nobles from other realms speak to Odin in less than pleasant tones during complicated negotiations in the past, but he had _never_ heard anyone demand _anything_ from the Allfather. Prior to Loki’s transgressions, Odin and Frigga’s relationship had been nothing but loving and courteous, and hardly ever would Thor have described their interactions as strained. But it still scared him to hear his mother challenge the Allfather in such a way, for he did not know how Odin would react.

His worry only grew as Frigga concluded, “Either you will provide answers to each and every one of these questions, or I swear to the Norns that I will walk out the doors of this palace and never return!” 

“Mother!” 

Odin held up a hand. 

“You need not worry, my son. Your mother has not angered me. I know very well that I deserve such wrath.”

“You do?” Thor raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Yes, Thor. When you have come to me in the past, I have seemed hostile to your pleas. I know this. But that does not mean I was unable to see these matters as you did. I understand that my actions have been deemed abhorrent by both you and your mother.”

“Well then?” Frigga said tersely. “How can you defend yourself? What then do you have to say in response?” 

Odin returned the quill he had been holding to its black marble vase and leaned back in his chair. 

“You ask about the child,” he stated, “Which means you are aware that I do in fact have the answer you seek. You must have been told I possess this knowledge.” 

“Yes,” Frigga said bitterly. “One of Loki’s fellow _slaves_ informed us.”

“It was the Enforcer you enslaved, was it not, Thor?”

Frigga eyes widened, and she turned toward Thor, expression indicating her hope for a denial. But it was a denial Thor could not give. 

“Aye,” he affirmed quietly, not daring to look at his mother. She hadn’t known about his enslavement of the Enforcer, and he didn’t want to see her inevitable disappointment.

“You know why the child is here,” Frigga said flatly. It wasn’t a question. 

Odin nodded. “I do.” 

“And you’ve done nothing?” Thor wondered in disbelief, anger suppressed only by the shock and hurt that he felt, knowing his own father could ignore such an injustice. 

The Allfather sighed. “Sit, both of you. This story will take some time to tell.”

Thor obliged, feeling slightly ill at the knowledge that this story would be nothing like the tales his nursemaids had sometimes told him as a child. 

“I knew about the Midgardian child almost immediately after she arrived here,” Odin began, as Thor and Frigga settled themselves into enormous upholstered chairs. “Word travels, and even when it does not, I have Heimdall to report to me all I ought to know. As it so happens, two Asgardian soldiers sought not long ago to visit Midgard. The trip was meant to be brief - as I understand, they merely wished to make good use of a day off. Heimdall permitted the visit, as is customary. Such trips to Midgard, while relatively uncommon, are not unheard of, and they have never presented a problem before. Previous Asgardians who have made such a journey have acted discreetly and respectfully, not wishing to squander such a privilege.” 

Odin paused for a moment, running a hand over his thick, white beard. 

“These men,” he sighed, “Were not so careful. Upon arriving in Midgard, they expected the clearing in which they landed to be deserted. It was not. Almost immediately, they found themselves face to face with a wide-eyed girl nothing short of stunned to see two men ‘fall from the sky,’ as it must have appeared to her. The Midgardians do not know of our realm; to them, our magical capabilities are naught but a myth. As you both know, Asgardians, have tended throughout history to adhere to the practice of keeping our existence a secret. Were we to openly advertise our presence, there is always the possibility we may be seen as a threat. Naturally, we wish to avoid generating any such animosity.” 

Thor peered over at Frigga to see that her face had not softened. It was unsurprising. Odin still had much of his story to tell, and he had not yet come close to providing a reasonable excuse for allowing such horrible things to happen to either Millie or Loki. Tearing his eyes away from Frigga, Thor refocused his attention on Odin. 

“So when the two soldiers realized they’d revealed the long-kept secret, albeit unintentionally, they panicked. Rather than requesting an immediate return to Asgard to determine an appropriate course of action, they instinctively bound and gagged the girl so that she could not run off and tell others what she had seen.” 

Despite himself, Thor shot another glance at Frigga, only to look away cringing. His mother’s eyes were terrifying, burning bright with fury and disgust. Thor hardly knew how Odin was able to withstand such a gaze. But then again, he was the Allfather. And Thor would soon take his place. He would have to learn to withstand withering looks and much, much more. 

“Heimdall saw this happen, just as he sees everything that occurs in the nine realms. Had the situation only involved the two soldiers, he might have simply summoned them back and chastised them for their disreputable behavior. But the involvement of the child prevented him from doing this. Had he brought back the two men alone, that would have left the child bound and gagged on snowy ground, unable to seek help or draw attention to herself. She had wandered away from her family, to a place where they would not readily think to look for her. Had Heimdall left her there, she would have frozen to death. He knew he could not allow that to happen.” 

“And yet he allowed her to end up _here?_ ” Thor blurted in amazement. “As a _slave?_ ”

Odin raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Have patience, Thor. I am coming to that.” Thor shifted in his seat, waiting uncomfortably to hear the explanation, knowing it would not quell any of the sick dread he felt.

“Heimdall could not leave the girl to die,” Odin continued. “So he watched and waited for the men to come to their senses, to let the innocent child go free. But alas, they did not. Moments later, in fact, they requested return to Asgard, clearly intending to bring the girl with them. Heimdall allowed it, thinking to reason with the men when they returned, so that they might release the girl and allow her to be sent home. But they were belligerent upon re-entering the realm, acting rashly in response to their fear. Heimdall could have forcibly taken the child from them, but he could not have guaranteed her safety in doing so, especially when one of them drew his sword in an attempt to fend off the gatekeeper. Above all, Heimdall knew the girl must remain unscathed, so he allowed them to pass, taking the restrained child with them. He waited only to see what they would do with her before immediately informing me of the situation.” 

“So you knew from the beginning,” Frigga said in a low voice, practically a whisper. “You knew, and you did nothing!” 

Odin rested his head in his hand, closing his eyes. Guilt such as Thor had never seen briefly crept over the Allfather’s features. 

“Believe me when I say I was horrified.” Odin looked up again. His face appeared impassible once more, but Thor had a gut feeling he was imploring them to understand. “I was disgusted,” he went on, “at the soldiers’ actions. I wanted nothing more than to remove that child from the slave cell, have her seen by a healer, and promptly send her home with sincerest and most humble apologies. But I sensed I was digging a hole that I would not easily climb out of.” 

“A hole.” Frigga stated flatly. She looked entirely unimpressed. Had it been Thor she were speaking to, the Crown Prince would have cringed in discomfort. He knew his mother was not a woman to be trifled with. Odin undoubtedly knew as well, and despite his normal stoicism, his face crumpled ever so slightly. He seemed so very tired. It suddenly occurred to Thor just how old his father was; how much he must have endured in his many thousands of years. 

“Yes,” the Allfather continued wearily. “A hole. Had I demanded the release of the child, it would have been equivalent to an admission that the conditions under which slaves live - ”

“Including your own son,” Frigga muttered. 

“ - are in fact horrific - ”

“Which they are!”

“Yes, I know, Frigga, but the citizens of Asgard do not view slavery as you do. To them, especially to many of the most noble families, slavery is a worthy treatment for inferior individuals. They view slaves as nothing more than creatures who not only have no claim to the rights of citizens, but in fact ought to be actively deprived of those rights.”

“How can Asgardians think of others in this way?” Thor exclaimed, horrified. “Surely they realize how much they would suffer were they in the slaves’ position?”

Odin studied Thor carefully for a moment. “A year ago, would you even have given any thought to the ethicality of slavery? Would you have even been aware of how slaves truly lived?”

Thor remained silent, red pigment creeping across his cheeks. He remembered well how ignorant he had been, and he felt greatly shamed by it. 

“There are those who support slavery, yes,” Odin said. “I personally have never understood that sentiment, but the practice is so engrained in Asgardian history that I did not wish to introduce the instability that emancipation would introduce.” 

Frigga made a low sound of disgust in the back of her throat. 

“However, even more numerous than the supporters are those who are indifferent. The lack of opposition from the citizenry is not so much due to widespread support as it is due to the fact that most never pay it any mind.

“Then… if most people are merely indifferent, who’s to say they wouldn’t be receptive to the idea that slavery is abhorrent?” Thor argued. “If they were to learn the truth, surely they would sympathize.”

“Yes, perhaps they might. But what will happen when they think back on the recent past and remember that their former prince, who committed horrific atrocities on Midgard, was sentenced to slavery a mere twelve months ago? I feared they would think it a ploy to bring leniency unto him who was my son.”

“ _Was_?” Frigga hissed. 

Odin held up a weary hand, silencing her. “I will always think of Loki as my son. As much as it may seem otherwise, it has pained me every bit as much as you to see him suffer. Greater so, perhaps, since it was I who determined his fate. But as I have explained - in a manner that both of you have deemed harsh - I could neither appear to show partiality nor sentence my own son to death. I simply could not. Mayhap it was selfish of me, but it would have broken my heart. There are those who think me to be composed of uru, but I have weaknesses like any other. I have merely learned, as one who holds immense power and authority, to suppress those weaknesses under the majority of circumstances. But when it came to one so close to my heart, I could not overcome.” 

Though his face hardly betrayed anything but fatigue, it seemed much easier to sympathize with Odin now than at any other time in the past. He was confessing to struggle; to be something other than the emotionally detached and unaffected authority figure everyone thought him to be. It was a far cry from that which Asgardians were accustomed to. 

Thor hesitated. “You have handled so much, Father. Why did you fear instability brought on by change? The people trust your leadership. They may have been unsettled, but surely everything would have calmed down?”

“Ah. Here, Thor, is a place where I have failed _you_ ,” Odin admitted quietly. “The start of your reign approaches as quickly as does the end of mine. I did not wish to leave you a realm marred by unrest. The transition to such immense responsibility is complex enough in itself; I did not wish to make it any harder for you.” He rose from his seat, leaning a hand on the sturdy yet elegant desktop, his eyes sliding to meet Thor’s. “But over the past few months, I have come to realize that in my desire to protect you, I have insulted your competence. I have forgotten to treat you as the adult that you are. Despite your impressive build, I sometimes still see you as the small child who used to run laughing through the halls with his dark-haired brother. But you no longer need my protection, and I must step aside once and for all not only to allow you to rule Asgard, but to allow you to rule yourself. You no longer require a caretaker, and I have insulted you in acting otherwise.”

A caretaker. No, Thor certainly had no further need for such a figure, though he would be glad for an adviser; a confidant; someone to rely on. Odin would be willing to play this role, Thor knew, but could he trust him? Could he have faith in his father’s advice, knowing the missteps he’d made? The missteps that had so gravely wronged his own son? 

Thor spoke carefully. “I understand your concern for me, father, and I am not insulted. In fact, it is touching to see that you care so deeply for me.” 

He took a deep breath. 

“However, while you have aimed to protect _me_ , you have two sons - and you have failed the other. I have never been able to comprehend how you could allow Loki to suffer as he has. Even when you explain yourself so thoroughly, still I cannot fathom it. I hope that I can someday forgive you, as I do not wish to be at odds with any of my own family members. But I understand you well when you say that I must take charge of my responsibilities. Perhaps I cannot yet fully appreciate what I am to face, but I do know that I do not want to be a king who allows injustice to persist merely to lessen discontentedness among the privileged. Whatever challenges may come from abolishing slavery, I will meet those challenges and do whatever it takes to overcome them, because it is the only path to justice.”

Thor rose from his seat, staring Odin directly in the eye. 

“I will free my brother,” he said firmly. “I will free the Midgardian child. And I will free all of those who suffer under the yoke of enslavement in our realm. This I swear. It shall be my first act as ruler of Asgard.” 

Had he been looking at Frigga, Thor would have seen a flood of sentiment overtake her expression, but his sights were set on Odin. He had given no consideration to how the Allfather might react to his proclamation, but to his great surprise, more than one tear slid down the King’s cheeks and fell upon the silk rug below.

“My son,” Odin said, his eyes glistening with emotion, “I am proud of you.” 

Thor felt his composure slip, his resolve weakened by his father’s uncharacteristic demonstration of feelings. He fought it, not wanting to show weakness, but ultimately he could not prevent the fear and stress of the past few hours from bubbling up inside of him and pushing its way out. Just as he let out his first sob, his mother stood and closed the distance between them, wrapping him in her arms and holding him tightly. He could not stop the tears now, and Frigga cried too as he returned the embrace.

“It’s alright now, Thor,” she whispered, her tears dampening the clothing on his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, I am so, so sorry it has been 7 months since the last update!! First of all, I didn't really realize what a cliffhanger the end of the chapter was until everyone started reacting to it. So I didn't intend to torture you all like that!! I also never intended for the wait to be anywhere near as long, but I had a couple of commitments that ended up being way more time consuming than I'd anticipated. I'm planning to go to law school beginning next fall, so I had to study for the Law School Admission Test (which is a really intense process) and then do all my applications, which took quite a long time. And I really had to prioritize those two things. I'm sure you'll understand, but I do feel bad about the wait. The good news is that I have a lot of the last two chapters written already, so HOPEFULLY it should be a shorter wait this time. Thank you all for your support <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, finally! I apologize for the wait, my loves! I hope you enjoy it. It's the longest chapter yet! 
> 
> Only one more chapter to go! I've already written a good chunk of it. I WILL be posting it on July 18th, my 3 year anniversary of posting on Ao3. Hold me to that, guys! Post lots of comments reminding me of the deadline. 
> 
> Okay! Read away!

A swell of voices grew steadily as the citizens of Asgard filled the throne room. Their audible sense of wonder permeated the borders of the immense hall, reaching past the unassuming curtain that hid the modest chamber where honored guests sometimes waited to be presented to an audience. A majority of those who found themselves in this distinguished position chose to process the length of the throne room, from the towering double doors at the entrance to the base of the dais that held the Allfather’s magnificent throne. There was more attention to be gotten from this arrangement, more flattery for the egos of pompous aristocrats with no shortage of self-serving intentions. 

Loki had never been able to match the hyper-masculine ideal that a highly ranked Asgardian was expected to meet, and now he was less suited to it than ever. He had no desire to walk past thousands of men who hated him. He would receive no gratification from it, nor was he convinced it would be conducive to his safety. Thor had scoffed at the suggestion that harm might come to him were he to process through the crowd, but Loki knew that even Thor’s orders might not protect one as hated as he. 

In truth, Loki would have preferred to avoid facing the people of Asgard forever. He was inexpressibly grateful for his freedom, but he hardly saw why he had to be present when Thor made the announcement that would abolish slavery throughout the realm. In fact, it would please him very much to never again make a public appearance. As long as he remained fed, watered, and free from abuse, he would be content to spend the rest of his days secluded and devoid of excitement. Now that he was free, he would never again know the starvation, exhaustion, and injury that had characterized his enslavement, and that was more than enough to satisfy him. 

It still did not feel real. Mere days ago he’d been resigned to death, yet now he had not only his life, but his freedom. Could there ever be a more drastic turnabout? Loki thought not, but it overwhelmed him to dwell on it, so he chose instead to focus on acclimating to his current situation. Dignified treatment was no longer something to which he was accustomed, and tolerating the consequent barrage of discomfort and shock required quantities of energy that he had not quite regained. How he would find the strength to stand before all of Asgard in his humbled state, he knew not, but there was no other option. It was what Thor wished of him.

He was suddenly startled by a tug on his hand. Instinctively he flinched away, but then he saw that it was only Millie.

“Sorry,” she said, her youthful face falling slightly. She appeared guilty at having unsettled him. 

“Don’t apologize, my dear. I was merely lost in thought.” He placed a hand affectionately on her shoulder. “Did you wish to speak with me?”

“Yeah - well, not really. I just… Can you sit with me?” she glanced up hopefully, her sheepish grin impossibly “cute,” as the Midgardians would say. 

Loki smiled warmly. “Of course.” 

He followed her over to a set of simple wooden seats to their left. Across the room, there were several larger chairs, much softer and with armrests, but captivity had conditioned Loki to favor the more lowly option. Asgardian slaves were given a reminder of their status at every possible occasion, and, although he was now free to sit wherever he chose, Loki couldn’t quite overcome the memories of the beatings that had taught him that lesson. Millie didn’t seem to mind either way, so the modest option would do. 

“Do I get to go home soon?” the girl asked him once they had settled. She twisted her hands nervously in her lap. 

“I would imagine so. But first we have to attend a ceremony.” 

“A ceremony? Why?” 

“Well, Thor is to be crowned King and will declare the abolition of slavery in Asgard. He wishes us to be present.” 

“Why? Do we have to? Will there be a lot of people?”

“Yes. Thousands. Thor wants the people to see us.” 

Millie frowned uneasily. “I don’t want people to see me. I just want to go home.” 

Loki sighed quietly. “Yes. I know. I wish you could go now. But if Thor thinks we ought to attend the ceremony, I trust his judgment.” 

He was shocked to realize this was the truth. He _did_ expect that Thor had an adequate reason for requiring their attendance. Before he fell from the Bifrost; before his attack on Midgard; before enduring the horrors of slavery, he had regarded as foolish every word that left the thunder god’s mouth. And perhaps at one time, he had been justified in those assumptions. But Loki was profoundly aware that he now owed his salvation to Thor. Whatever maturity the golden-haired prince may once have lacked, he had by now developed into an effective leader, and Loki was truly grateful that Thor had chosen to free him. He felt no resentment or bitterness for bearing such feelings, either. Once he would have been loath to admit himself indebted to Thor, but the past year had debased him considerably. 

“Why does Thor like you so much?” Millie wondered. “He didn’t act like he knew any of the other… slaves.” She wrinkled her nose at the distasteful word. 

“He didn’t. Thor and I…” Loki hesitated. “I was brought up as his brother.”

“Really? You don’t look like each other at all!” 

His lips stretched into a sad smile. “I was adopted.” 

Millie didn’t seem notice his expression. “Oh really? I’ve never met anyone who’s adopted. Have you met your real parents?” 

Loki almost laughed out loud. “I suppose you could say I met my father.” 

“Did you like him?” 

“Not especially.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Loki smiled at her. “It’s alright. I have a wonderful adoptive mother.”

“That’s good. Is Thor wonderful too?” 

This time, Loki snickered. It would take some time yet before he could think of Thor that way, no matter how grateful he was toward him.

“In some ways.” 

*****

Standing in the wings waiting to enter the throne room, Thor battled an uneasy feeling in his gut. It was not because he was about to become king - that was something he’d been preparing for his whole life. No, he was apprehensive to see how the people would respond to his declaration, hence the anxiety licking at his innards. 

He looked magnificent, polished armor shining so brightly that none who looked at him would mistake him for anything but a god. Fastened to his armor at the shoulders was a brilliant blood-red cape, and he wore a new helmet made especially for this occasion. Composed of the finest gold in all the nine realms, accents of silver complimented the breathtaking silver wings that extended upward from each side, taller and more impressive than on previous models. His attire was not dissimilar from that which he usually wore, but it was of a more stunning nature, symbolic of his rise in stature from prince to king. 

The curtain separating the chamber from the throne room was semi-opaque, allowing Thor to view the size of the crowd that had been continuously assembling since the early hours of dawn. As big a room as it was, it could not accommodate anywhere near the full population of Asgard, so those who wished to claim a spot in the humongous hall had to make their way to the palace many hours before the festivities were scheduled to commence. The energy emanating from those who had succeeded in securing a place in the hall was incredible, comparable only to that of a family that has just experienced the birth of a healthy child, or perhaps even that of warriors returning from a successful battle. It was quite apparent that the people were excited for the day’s events. 

As for Loki, Thor knew he was less than thrilled. He wished it weren’t necessary for Loki to make an appearance during the announcement of abolition, but there was no better way to demonstrate the horrors of slavery than to show how far Loki had fallen. The public knew what he’d looked like before and would easily perceive the drastic changes to his body. Without Loki, they would have no way to appreciate the physical effects of enslavement and would have little chance of accepting Thor’s justification. 

He glanced over to the side of the chamber where Loki sat with the Midgardian girl. The child seemed anxious, though Thor couldn’t be certain of the reason. She had plenty of cause to be ill at ease, of course, given the grim changes to her life as of late. Nor were those changes finished, as she would soon be separated from Loki. It was for the best, of course, but in returning the girl to her family and her life, she would be ripped away from the main anchor of stability she’d found since the kidnapping. 

The child (her name escaped him) appeared so contented with Loki, so completely trusting in him. Thor had never believed Loki to be particularly fond of children, but it was obvious that he cared deeply for this one. Hard times had brought them together, he supposed. 

Comfortable as she was with Loki, the girl seemed to dislike Thor’s presence. Now and again, her eyes darted over to him, as if to ensure he hadn’t moved any closer. Though her worries were unfounded, Thor could see how someone of his stature might be perceived as threatening, especially given what she’d witnessed from other Asgardian males. 

Females, on the other hand, were not a sex she had observed dispensing any cruelties, so when Frigga entered the room a moment later, the girl did not so much as blink. Frigga smiled at her as she gave Loki’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, then turned to Thor. “Are you ready, my son? All has been taken care of.” 

Thor took a breath. “I believe I am ready.” He made brief eye contact with Loki, who sat stoically, hiding much of the nerves he must have been feeling. His face was nearly as unreadable as it had once been, back before the fall from the bifrost. Although a younger Thor may have been irritated at his brother’s deliberate deception, the thunder god now felt a swell of pride that Loki seemed well on his way to regaining his sense of self. It boded well for the future. 

He looked back at Frigga. “Where is Odin?” 

“He should be here by the time I’ve finished introducing you.” 

Thor nodded. “Very well, then. Go on. I shall await your summons to the stage.” Smiling warmly, Frigga placed a kiss on his cheek. “I am so proud of you,” she said, brushing a thumb across the skin her lips had just touched. “You have grown to be so much more than the arrogant boy you once were.” 

Thor laughed. “Once I would have been grievously offended by those words.” 

“Indeed. But now you have the maturity to admit your flaws, past and present.” She withdrew her hand from his face, instead taking hold of his hand. “And now you will accept the crown that is rightfully yours.” She gave his hand a light squeeze before releasing it, her face alight with tenderness. Then she turned to go, the sound of the assemblage escalating to a roar as his mother, who was much loved by all, slipped past the translucent curtain and entered the throne room. 

It was as the noise eventually began to decrescendo that Thor sensed Odin step up beside him. He did not acknowledge his father’s presence. Showing affection for the monarch who had enslaved his brother, especially since that brother was in the room, held no interest for him. It was compulsory that Odin attend the coronation, of course, given that it was he who would pass on the crown. But were it possible to carry out the ceremony without him, Thor would not have minded in the least. Relations with Odin were difficult at this point in time and likely would remain so for a quite a while. 

The two stood silently next to each other for the duration of Frigga’s speech, and when she announced them, they entered the room together, nodding and waving at the citizenry who looked up to and respected them. 

Odin spoke first, outlining Thor’s many accomplishments and qualifications. Thor did not pay him much attention, instead choosing to look out at the throng of civilians. He saw men and women, young and old, rich and poor, gathered together to show their support for him as their king. It occurred to him that he would have taken it all for granted only a few short years ago: the love and loyalty of the crowd, the good fortune of having been born into royalty, the grandness of the ornate room where they all gathered. Frigga’s preparations had been remarkably successful. Thor would have expected no less, of course, but to see the final product in front of his very eyes was nothing short of astounding. The throne room, already so impressive in its usual state, appeared brighter and more magnificent in every single way - perhaps the result of a combination of magic, weeks of polishing precious metal, and… something else? What exactly, Thor could not be certain, but he doubted he could have ever equaled such a feat himself. The radiance of the hall was absolutely dazzling. 

He waited wordlessly while Odin concluded his message, then knelt to accept the coronation. Stretching out his wrinkled hands, the Allfather proffered Gungnir to his firstborn. Thor accepted the imposing spear, bowing his head out of respect for the great honor he was receiving. Then he stood and raised the mighty weapon to the sky. The audience erupted into shouts, raising their fists to mirror his. Thousands of men, women, and children alike stood clapping and cheering for him, for his ascension to the throne. 

Hopefully they would still feel the same love for him once he’d finished speaking. 

Lowering Gungnir, he raised a hand to request silence. The noise diminished to whispers as everyone craned their necks to get a better look at their new king. 

Thor scanned his eyes across the room, looking into every corner. He wanted to make sure he acknowledged everyone; that all in attendance knew his appreciation for their support. After a few seconds’ pause, he began to speak. 

“Citizens of Asgard! It is a great honor for me to stand before you as your king. This is the day I have waited for all of my life. It is what I have been raised for, trained for. From the moment of my birth, I have been groomed to watch over and care for this realm. And already I have served Asgard for centuries. I have led battles. I have maintained peace on Asgard. I have thrived under the great leadership of the Allfather, Odin Borson!”

“Odin!” A cry went up, and the men in the room again raised their fists into the air, expressing their love for their previous king. Thor let them show their appreciation for a few moments before speaking over the ovation. 

“But nothing I have done thus far will ever be as important as the role I now take on. I understand the responsibility that I have inherited, and I welcome it most heartily. Asgard is the greatest of all the realms, and I swear to you I will do everything in my power to preserve and extend that greatness.”

“Long live Asgard!” A warrior cried out, followed by a chorus of enthusiastic echoes. “Long live Asgard! Long live Asgard!”

“Yes, long live Asgard!” Thor rumbled. “We have much to pride ourselves upon. But we also,” he said, changing tone, “have customs that we ought to be ashamed of, practices that are not reflective of the greatness we wish to represent. My first act as king shall be to put an end to one of these disgraceful customs.”

Confusion spread throughout the faces in the crowd. More than a few exchanged inquisitive looks with those standing beside them, furrowing their brows and tilting their heads. Thor allowed himself a breath, and then continued. “I am referring to the institution of slavery.”

Instant murmurs rippled through the audience. 

“Whilst I am king, there will no longer be slavery in Asgard.”

The crowd’s volume increased, as did the palpable disbelief. Everyone looking completely shocked at this unexpected turn. Some even looked a bit aghast. Nonetheless, Thor pressed on. He had to present his case so they would understand. 

“Slavery is a cruel, unjust, inhumane practice that impugns our honor and represents a black mark on our history. We are failing to live up to the moral standards of other realms. Listen!” he warned as some among the spectators reacted angrily to his criticisms of Asgard. It was growing more difficult to control them. 

“Now, I know that as a people we have grown accustomed to slavery,” Thor called. “It is part of the way we understand the world to work. I know that change can be difficult. And perhaps this prospect may be challenging for some. But it is a change we must make.” 

Among the observers, there were many faces darkened with anger or disapproval, while others seemed skeptical or uncertain. But others were nodding their approval, maintaining eye contact with Thor and demonstrating respect for his decision. This was a comfort, at least. Support for the new policy would begin with those who might convince their peers of the benefits. 

“Some of you may be thinking,” he said, “That I only call for abolition in order to relieve my brother Loki of his sentence.” 

He could tell from the reactions of the displeased that many of them had indeed been thinking this. 

“I swear on my honor that this is untrue. I will admit I loathed seeing my brother suffer in such a way. But Loki is not the sole reason for my decision. As I became aware of the horrors of slavery and how it was damaging my brother, I also realized that he was not alone in his torment. There are hundreds of others who suffer every day, subject to unspeakable pain and hunger and deprivation. Loki opened my eyes to the great wrong that we have perpetuated for far too long. Now is the time for us to acknowledge our wrongdoing and make our amends.”

“OUR wrongdoings?” growled a voice from the crowd. Thor looked down to see that an aging warrior had stepped forward, putting a few steps’ distance between him and the rest of the audience. He had a stocky build, and his dark beard created an odd clash with his graying hair. 

“The slaves of Asgard are criminals! It is they who need to make amends, not us!” 

A rumble of approval circulated the room. 

“Silence!” Thor bellowed. “I will not hear any arguments on this matter. I do not deny, nor could I deny, that the enslaved have earned punishment of some sort. _However_ , there are other methods of retribution that would not only be far more humane, but could prepare these lawbreakers to re-enter society. The current system does not allow for that. We must reevaluate the system and ask ourselves whether it is really in anyone’s best interest. 

Thor stole a glance backward toward Frigga, who nodded encouragingly. He took a breath.

“At this time, there is someone I wish to introduce to you. Someone who demonstrates that what was meant as a form of justice has, in reality, become a dark stain on our society.” 

He looked to his left, where he could see the silhouettes of Loki and the Midgardian girl beyond the fluttering curtain. Smiling in a way he hoped was unintimidating, Thor extended a hand. “Come forward, child.” 

A melody of curious whispers went up among the spectators, many of them craning their necks to catch a glimpse of this mystery juvenile. Any anger that might have been felt moments earlier seemed instantly set aside. 

The girl came out, looking quite distressed. Her face only grew more terrified when she saw the size of the audience. Her footsteps faltered, and she started to turn back in Loki’s direction. It was Frigga who stopped her, gracefully floating up from her seat and placing a gentle arm around the girl. Thor could not hear what his mother said, but her words seemed to alleviate the worst of the child’s fears. She coaxed the girl over toward Thor, giving her one last encouraging expression before taking a few steps back. She did not resume her seat, seeming to intend her presence as a comfort to the child. The girl - Mary? Minerva? - peered up at Frigga, then at Thor before settling her gaze on the ground in front of her. 

“Don’t be afraid, child,” Thor said softly. She gave him a weak and unconvincing smile back. Well. At least it was something. He turned to address the public, who were waiting expectantly for an explanation. 

“Before you stands a most vulnerable daughter of Midgard, still no more than a youth,” Thor began. “She in an innocent brought to this realm under evil pretenses and has lived as a slave since her arrival. Let me be perfectly clear: this young girl has committed no crime. She has done nothing to deserve punishment, let alone enslavement. It was two soldiers of Asgard who brought her here, acting dishonorably in an attempt to disguise their own misdoings. The willingness of these citizens - supposedly among the most respectable in the realm - to condemn an innocent child without a second thought demonstrates that our society has fallen away from its own values. We may be a harsh people, but we would never claim to be unjust. And nothing - I repeat, _nothing_ \- is more unjust than what this girl has had to endure. We must admit that we have ceased to understand the severity of a practice we have so readily accepted.”

Hearing a sniffle, Thor looked down to see tears running down the girl’s face, though her eyes had not moved from their spot on the floor. It was best he move on, Thor decided. The crowd would not be as sympathetic to his next guest, but hopefully the knowledge of a child’s suffering had sufficiently softened their hearts. 

“I now call to the stage Loki Laufeyson - my adoptive brother.” 

A myriad of voices had arisen when Thor revealed the child to be of Midgard, but the series of audible gasps and grumbles that rang out now was even more resounding. Many of the ladies in attendance could be seen looking at each other in shock, and more than a few of the males were unsuccessful in hiding their surprise, as well. It seemed few had expected a convicted criminal and a Frost Giant to be summoned during a coronation ceremony. 

Loki came forward silently and somewhat stiffly. It was strange to see him presented to the realm without the customary armor he wore as a prince of Asgard, but Thor had seen to it that Loki was given proper clothing to wear. His green and black garments, although not the same quality as those worn by the aristocracy, were new and well made, even featuring a modest detail of goldwork embroidery. This had been Frigga's suggestion, and Thor wholeheartedly agreed. As the common people scarcely ever wore such fine material, it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate the release of their son and brother, even if he no longer could claim any rank. 

Thor watched as his brother come to a halt at Millie's left, staring blankly ahead without focusing on any of the faces in front of her. Loki's lips were pursed, and Thor could see that he was not happy to be there. Nor were they happy to see him. The open-mindedness with which they had approached Millie did not extend to Loki, a murderer, traitor, and frost giant. Thor resolved to start speaking before their anger escalated beyond reparation. 

“You have seen that slavery has not always been reserved for the guilty," he began, "but many of you remain unaware of the specific horrors to which the slaves of Asgard have been subjected. I too was unaware of it until I happened to witness Loki’s suffering. Now, I know many of you hate him, and your anger is justified. I will not pretend that my brother has not done terrible things. But even one who has committed crimes such as his does not deserve the cruelty I witnessed."

Thor gestured toward Loki, determined to dissuade the skepticism that painted the faces of many in attendance.

"Look at him. Do you not see the gauntness of his face; the emaciation; the humility in his eyes? If he were to remove his clothing, you would see scars and bruises covering his body, marks of the abuse he bore. Loki has undergone physical and emotional torment of the worst kind in the past year. Whatever he has done, he has more than paid for his crimes. The same can be said for all the others who have suffered this fate, most of whom have faced it far longer than my brother. We in Asgard have never been known to go lightly on our criminals. But neither should we be cruel, else we are no better than the criminals themselves. We can punish citizens for their transgressions without going to such disturbing lengths.  
Thor nodded at Loki and Millie. “You may go.” 

The child, although she clearly wished to depart, first made eye contact with Loki, as if to ask his permission before leaving. Loki placed his hands on her shoulders and ushered her from the stage, neither of them giving the crowd another look. 

Thor released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d known Loki did not want to appear at the ceremony, and it was a relief to know that the moment was over for him. Now his task was to bring the ceremony to a favorable conclusion. 

“It will not be possible to integrate the former slaves into our society so long as there continues to be prejudice harbored against them. As a community, we have grown used to viewing slaves as inferior, as less that human. I understand that these attitudes will not transform overnight. However, I will not stand for _any_ abuse or mistreatment of the freedmen. It will be instinctual for some of you to shun them. I am well aware of this. But I would ask that you refrain from doing so. Our society will run more smoothly if we can all work together and attempt to show understanding.”

"I know,” Thor went on, “that many of you will find all of this hard to accept. And I understand that sentiment. But I ask you to have faith in me in the same way you placed trust in my father, from whom I have learned much throughout my life. I will not let Odin down, nor will I disappoint the realm. 

“No, he will not,” Sif agreed, turning to face the crowd from her position near the front. “People of Asgard, you know Thor as well as I. You know what he has done and what he is capable of. Rely upon your memories and not upon any fleeting doubt. What Thor proposes ought to appeal to our common decency. We may be a war-loving people, but that does not mean we need to be completely devoid of compassion.”

“Aye!” called Fandral, who, in addition to the other Warriors Three, stood alongside Sif. “Lady Sif speaks true. I stand with Thor.” 

“As do I!” said Hogun.

“And I!” Volstagg boomed. 

“Aye!” at least a dozen other voices yelled. 

“Long live the king!” shouted another. 

And suddenly there were more and more articulations of support for Thor’s decree. It was by no means all of them - there were still a great many who looked incredibly displeased or even furious - but there were enough assenters that Thor knew he had a solid base of allies among the populace. 

The acclamation continued, and it seemed as if a weight lifted from Thor’s shoulders. It felt immensely good to know that the public would not unite against him. Grinning, he pulled his mother into a hug with such vigor that she playfully reminded him she was not Volstagg. He laughed and kissed the top of her head. Already the throne room began to empty, and as Thor watched the people file out, it occurred to him that Frigga’s words had proved true. Everything would, in fact, be alright after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited you guys!!! This is the very final chapter, and I actually managed to get it out in a very short time! The time stamp might say July 19th (I'm not sure), but it's still July 18th where I am, and today is my three year anniversary of posting on Ao3. I'm so very proud to have finished this series, and I'd like to thank each and every person who has stuck with me throughout this whole ride. You all are so wonderful and encouraging, and I'm so glad you've been enjoying my writing. I hope you like this final chapter <3
> 
> Peace,  
> Lokiscribe

After Thor dismissed them from the stage, Loki fled the antechamber as quickly as he could. Frigga, perceptive as ever, sensed his need to remove himself and diverted Millie’s attention elsewhere, enabling him to abscond. Although not unwell, he badly craved refuge from critical eyes, a place free from the company of others where he could wait for his trembling hands to calm themselves. The former prince wove his way through a labyrinth of hallways and corridors, his wanderings aimless so long as they increased his distance from the place whence he had come. Blessedly he encountered not a single Asgardian throughout the palace, as all were still concentrated near the throne room. Their collective presence had proved hellish for Loki during the ceremony, but now it aided in his escape. He had done as Thor asked and now had no further obligation to suffer their contempt. 

Amidst his indiscriminate wanderings, Loki came upon a servants’ dining hall, one he was familiar with. On occasion, slaves were ordered to assist the paid servants if no higher ranked party required their labor, and Loki had twice done so in this very room. Three rectangular wooden tables stood parallel to each other aside a fireplace blackened from decades of use. Apart from a collection of mismatched but universally squatty stools, the room contained nothing else but a few hanging pots and spoons for cooking a simple meal. His former self would have thought the room quite beneath him, but now Loki found no complaint with it. The hall would serve his purpose. 

He shoved his way inside, sliding to the left of the door and dropping directly to the ground, not bothering to utilize one of the numerous stools. Finally, he could lean against the wall, tilt his head back, and _breathe_. For a long time he did nothing but inhale and exhale, feeling the tension slowly leave his quivering body. How very wonderful it was to be alone. Not only had he just endured a hostile crowd, but moments of seclusion under enslavement had been few and far between; ergo this solitude was a luxury in which it thrilled him to indulge. _Perhaps I’ll simply rest awhile,_ Loki thought. _Surely no one will find me here, and I’ve nowhere important to be..._ He allowed his eyes to fall shut, relishing how good it would feel to fall asleep right there against the wall. He could feel fatigue pulling him from consciousness, summoning him to blissful slumber… 

“Loki.” 

Instantly Loki snapped back to a state of wakefulness, cursing his bad luck in a low voice - even more so when he looked to his right and saw who had spoken. 

Odin. 

Loki couldn’t help but scowl. “How did you find me?” 

“Heimdall.” If the Allfather thought it an obvious answer, he revealed nothing in his expression. 

“Ah. Of course. How could I forget?” Loki grudgingly rose to his feet. “I assume there is something to you wish to discuss with me? Or did you merely desire my company?” Unlike Odin, Loki made no attempt to disguise his acerbic tone. 

The Allfather made no immediate response, seeming only to scrutinize his adopted son in silence. 

Loki raised his eyebrows. “I assume you did not track me down for the purpose of staring at me?”

“No.”

_No, Loki…_

That single word transported him back to the fractured Bifrost, to dangling out into the abyss. One syllable threatened to restore the same feelings of betrayal and despair he had known when he let go… 

Forcing the excruciating memories from his mind, Loki exclaimed, “Well, if you have nothing to say, surely you can leave me be!” He was hardly aware of his hands clenching into fists, of his eyes narrowing in anger. Only later would it occur to him that he had displayed aggressive emotion without fearing the ramifications. 

Odin gestured toward two of the stools that lined the wooden table closest to them. “Let us talk.”

It was the last thing Loki wanted to do, but he lacked the energy to disobey outright. Better to acquiesce and get through the conversation as quickly as possible. He took a seat, noting how odd it was to see Odin sitting upon a servant's stool. If the Allfather meant to ingratiate himself with Loki through humility, he would find himself disappointed. 

"You are pleased, I imagine, that the ceremony has concluded?" Odin paused as if expecting an answer, but Loki gave him none. "It is my hope that you will now be able to move past all of this; that you will be able to create a normal life for yourself. When I handed down your sentence, you were in need of punishment, but now that debt has been paid. You have endured terrible things -"

"At your hand," Loki muttered.

"I did not wield the lash, Loki."

"It makes no difference! You knew exactly the fate you were condemning me to! I believe in Thor's ignorance, but you will not convince me of yours. You might as well have sharpened the gelding knife yourself!"

Odin's gaze did not waver. "I was wrong to sentence you as I did," he said finally. "I will spare you an explanation of my decision, as it will change nothing that has happened. But I admit that I mishandled the situation." 

Loki made a low sound of contempt in the back of his throat. Odin seemed to ignore it. 

"Thor is the king now," he went on, "and as such, he has the final authority to dictate your future. But I wish it known that, should Thor allow it, you are welcome here in the palace. I do not imagine Thor will restore your rank, but there are myriad roles you could serve here, and it would grant you proximity to your family."

"You would claim familial relation to me even now?" Loki wondered in disbelief. "After, on your orders, I was beaten, starved, humiliated, _castrated_?"

"I meant to refer more to your mother and brother than to myself," Odin acknowledged. "Though it is my hope that I may one day earn your forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?"

"Yes. I know it will seem an impossibility at this time, but I would seek your pardon eventually, if you can bring yourself to bestow it." 

Loki stared stiffly back at Odin, the man who had been his nominal father, and tried to imagine forgiving him. But all he could feel was pain. Sorrow. Indignation. It was still difficult to fully embrace animosity given the frightful consequences he would have faced as a slave, but now that he could once again focus on more than just pure survival, the anger was starting to re-emerge. He would never again match the level of hatred he formally harbored toward Odin, (though he was not beyond recovery, enslavement had broken Loki in ways that could not be remedied, and a part of his spirit would always remain crushed) but nor could he simply forgive him. 

How could one who claimed to be his father condemn him to such a fate? How, as a father, could he have ordered his own son gelded like a domesticated beast? How could Odin have deliberately humiliated Loki upon their first encounter since his enslavement, only to then pull him aside and act as though he still cared about his well being? 

Odin had done terrible things to him. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, even if Loki were prepared to give it. It was not purely out of anger that Loki could not forgive. It was because of the crushing weight that all the memories of enslavement still inflicted on him. It was because Loki could not understand how an arbiter of justice could hand down a sentence that was so _un_ just. His newfound freedom also contributed, as it only underscored the cruelty in his life over the past year. 

There was so much emotion to confront, so much that Loki had yet to successfully process, but he knew enough to know that he would wrong himself if he were to forgive Odin. It was preposterous, he realized, for Odin even to ask. 

Clearing his throat, Loki rose to his feet. "I cannot forgive you, and I do not know that I ever shall." Without further ado, he swept from the room, leaving the Allfather behind. 

*****  
The walk to his mother's room was not a pleasant one, the ill-advised brisk gait Loki had adopted when fleeing the throne room now coming back to haunt him. The extended series of rapid movements had left his overburdened body aching terribly, and more than once Loki failed to disguise a wince as he made his way toward the royal apartments. 

How strange, he mused, that he was even allowed to enter such a place. Yes, Frigga and Thor considered him family, but freedman or not, he was a convicted criminal, entirely devoid of rank or distinction. It was in fact absurd that he was even authorized to remain in the palace. 

He was grateful for the continued permission, if only for the opportunity to remain close to Frigga. She was the one soul in Asgard he truly cared for; the only individual whose company he would actively seek out. His affection for her ran so deep as to be imprinted on his very being, and Loki dreaded the thought of ever losing her. 

As for the rest of Asgard... Loki had no more fondness for them than they did for him. It mattered not whether he was slave or free; the Asgardians would never accept him. He was a monster in their eyes, both because of his past deeds and because of his Jotun heritage. How could he ever find a place in society among these people who despised him? How could he ever hope to regain a normal life if he found himself constantly shunned? In truth, Loki could not envision what his life might look like in the future. He could not foresee any options open to him. 

But despite the tendency toward crushing melancholy, at least he knew he would always have food and shelter. Frigga would see to it. And he no longer had to endure the daily violence of merciless overseers who would beat him into the ground for the crime of failing to make his skeletal frame labor at the demanded pace. These were things he must hold onto, he told himself. He would no longer suffer for lack of basic needs, and he had the freedom to see Frigga whenever he wished. Those two things alone ought to be enough to ward off despair. 

He reached his mother's room to find Millie waiting inside, looking extremely anxious. Loki felt at once grateful to see her and concerned at her expression. 

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked. “You’re going home. All shall be well.” 

“Yeah, but… I don’t know what to feel!” she said in distress. “I don’t know how to feel about being here in the first place; I don’t want to say bye to you; I just know I’m going to cry when I see my parents, and I don’t _want_ to cry anymore - ”

“Shhh,” Loki soothed, bending down and taking her into his arms. “I will miss you, sweetheart, but you’ll be much better off with your parents and away from all of this. You may cry when you first return, but after that you’ll never have cause to cry again. You’ll be free.” 

Millie sniffled, but smiled a little. “Thanks. You always make me feel better. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“He has many talents,” a voice called from the doorway.

Loki turned to see that Frigga had entered the room. “Mother,” he greeted, straightening up. 

“Are you well, my son?” she asked. “I know today has not been easy for you.” 

Loki took a deep breath. “I have withstood far worse. I’ll be alright. Though it will be quite a while before I return to my normal self, I'm afraid."

“Oh, dear, don’t feel any pressure! You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. I fear you may never be the same.” 

“Perhaps not, but I hope to come as close as I can.” 

“What did you used to be like?” Millie inquired? “Were you really different?”

Loki thought a moment. “In some ways I was stronger. Braver. But I was also more selfish and bitter. In many ways I wasn’t very nice.” 

“I can’t picture that,” Millie declared. “I think you’re super nice, and I definitely think you're brave, too.” 

“You are exceedingly kind,” Loki smiled. “All the same, I’m much more timid than I used to be.” 

“Well, I don't blame you. Those men were so mean…” 

“Yes, they were,” Loki agreed. A shudder ran through him as a vision of his bleeding body hanging from a whipping post flashed across his memory. Frigga put a protective hand on his arm. 

“You don’t have to worry about them _ever_ again,” she promised emphatically. 

“I can scarcely let myself believe it,” he admitted. “Hope has been unthinkable these past twelve months.”

“What do you mean you can’t believe it?” Millie asked, her eyes suddenly awash with fear. “Do you mean we might have to be slaves again?” 

“No!” Loki said quickly kneeling in front of her. It hurt his overworked joints to do so, but for Millie’s sake he didn’t show it. “Darling, no one will ever treat you as a slave again, ever in your life. You can be sure of that.” 

“I hope so,” the child responded, burying her face in Loki’s shoulder. In a muffled voice, she continued, “But what about you? Will you be ok?” She raised her head to stare him in the eye. 

Frigga must have seen the flash of uncertainty on his face, because she gracefully answered, “No, my dear. Loki will not be a slave, either. He will be free, I promise you.”

“Good,” Millie said, squeezing him tighter. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be a slave, but especially not you.”

Loki felt his heart glow with warmth. The love he felt for this child was indescribable, as strong as if she were his own offspring. He would miss her terribly.

Turning to his mother, he asked, “When will Millie be sent home?” 

“As soon as Thor dons more comfortable clothing,” she answered. “He wants to escort her himself so that he can personally apologize to her parents.” 

"So soon?"

"Yes," Frigga responded gently. "We've kept Millie from her family far too long already. It's high time we returned her to them."

“Can Loki come?” Millie’s eyes were wide as they flitted back and forth between Loki and Frigga, who looked at each other. 

“I don’t see why he can't at least attend you to the edge of the Bifrost,” Frigga offered. “I’m sure Thor would not object if you accompanied them.” 

“Good!” Millie grinned. “Can he meet my parents?” 

Loki smiled. “I’d be honored, my dear. But we'll have to see if Thor will allow it.” 

Millie wrinkled her nose. "I don't like this whole king thing. It just means you can boss everyone around."

Loki chuckled. This pre-adolescent child may have identified a crucial flaw in Asgardian government that others had overlooked for millennia. 

*****

In the end, they decided it was best that Loki not travel to Midgard, lest he be recognized. Were a human to identify the would-be conqueror of Earth and raise an alarm, it would complicate the journey in ways that no one desired. That simply would not do, so Loki merely traveled with Thor and Millie to the Bifrost. They went on horseback, with Millie riding on Loki’s horse. Despite the comforting feeling of her back leaning against him, Loki felt a tightening feeling of sadness in his chest. The girl was one of the few friends he had in Asgard, and he sorely wished it were not necessary for them to part. 

He could see Heimdall waiting for them at the end of the rainbow bridge, golden eyes impassive as he coolly observed their approach. He greeted Thor as his king and nodded respectfully at Loki and Millie. 

"Never have I been more pleased to send someone across the bridge," Heimdall remarked, as monarch, convict, and child dismounted their steeds. "The girl ought never to have been here in this realm."

"No," Thor agreed, "And it pleases me greatly to now return her."

Millie scowled as Loki offered his hand to help her to the ground. "They're talking about me like I'm a Christmas package or something," she whispered to him. "And also, I'm standing right _here_. They can talk _to_ me..."

Loki smiled at her. He was only vaguely familiar with the Midgardian holiday of "Christmas," but all the same, he understood the meaning behind her words. "I know just how you feel, Millie. But have patience – you'll be free of them in a few short moments."

"True... but that means I won't have _you_ in a few minutes either." 

"Do not dwell upon that." Loki advised, even though he knew he would not follow his own suggestion. "Are you not excited to reunite with your parents?"

"It'll be _so good to see them_ ," she confirmed, nodding vigorously. "I miss them so much." 

"You see? Returning home is for the best. Perhaps you'll even forget me one day." 

"I won't forget you!" Millie exclaimed. "You're my friend! I wouldn't ever want to forget you!" 

"Oh, child... you warm my heart." He drew her into a hug, which she gladly reciprocated. They held each other for several moments, his hand on her head as she clung to him, seemingly unwilling to let go. It was only when the strength of her embrace began to cause discomfort that he reached behind him and gently pulled her hands apart from where they were clasped against his lower back. With a soft smile, he struggled to his knees and took both her hands in his, looking her in the eye. "I know with certainty that I will never forget you. You have been a precious comfort to me in these trying times."

She giggled, wiping a tear away while she did so. “I love how you talk so funny.” 

“As do you, human!” Loki teased. It occurred to him as he looked over to see Thor waiting expectantly that he no longer used the word human with any sort of animosity. 

"It is time," he told Millie reluctantly, giving her hand a squeeze. "We must say our goodbyes." 

Her face fell. “Will I ever see you again?” 

“I’m sure you will. I can’t say when,” Loki replied honestly, “but I’m sure there will be a way.” 

“You are always welcome here, if you feel comfortable enough to return,” Thor’s deep voice boomed from behind them. 

Millie looked at him. “Maybe. I don’t know.” 

“Give it time,” Loki said, touching her cheek. “We’ll see how you feel in a few years. If you don’t want to come here, then I can come to you.” 

“But what if people recognize you? They hate you, right? Would they hurt you?” 

“There is always a way,” he assured her. “If you wish to see me again, then you shall.” 

"Okay." She hugged him again, more tenderly this time. 

“Are you ready now?” Thor interrupted. Loki couldn't help but shoot a small glare at his brother. Thor didn't seem to notice. 

Millie gave an uncertain glance at Loki. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

"Good girl. Then go on," he urged gently, gesturing toward the silent gatekeeper. "Heimdall will send you and Thor back to Earth, where your family will be most eager to see you, I'm sure." 

The girl nodded hesitatingly. “Okay.” She took a few faltering steps toward Thor, who placed a hand on her back to steer her toward the great portal once she drew close enough for him to reach. 

"Bye, Loki!" She called earnestly over her shoulder, craning her neck so as not to lose sight of him. 

Loki fought back the tears that pricked at his eyelids. "Goodbye, child." 

He watched as they came to a halt, Millie never letting him out of her sight as Thor and Heimdall exchanged a few brief words. All too soon, the golden portal was spinning and spinning, the rapid motion increasingly obscuring the faces of the travelers from view until they finally disappeared altogether, an acute absence Loki immediately felt inside of him. It was as though a long, jagged blade, one coated with a poison that sent numbness spreading throughout his entire body, had gutted him. He felt empty, as though he’d lost his purpose. Even as he laid eyes on the blank space where Thor and Millie had been, he could see her looking at him with those loving eyes, still full of innocence even after all that Asgardians had put her through.

Yet, despite the numbness and the pain, he also felt hope, knowing that the girl would now be able to resume her life at home, free of cruelty and evil. Nor did he have to live every moment of his own life in fear any longer. Before Millie, he’d given up any hope of ever regaining liberty. It was still quite surreal, he thought as he slowly mounted his horse, to now be riding upon a horse as though nothing had ever happened to him. There were scars, of course. Both physical and mental, some that could never be healed. But at least now there was hope. 

Winded by the effort of climbing upon the towering animal, he leaned over to grab the reigns of the horse that had been Thor’s, but he thought better of it when he realized the king would likely return within the hour and require a ride back to the palace. Better to leave the equine with Heimdall and spare Thor a delay upon his arrival. Running a gentle hand through the horse’s mane, Loki urged his own steed forward. 

A layer of confusion settled atop the sentiments that already afflicted him as he made his way across the Bifrost. To what did he return? Mother? Brother? Was that enough? How would he spend his days? The future was so uncertain, he thought.

As if the universe wished to add to the incertitude, a lone figure appeared on the horizon, standing at the very end of bridge at a distance still too far from Loki to perceive facial features. Surely this person was not waiting for him? Loki knew a moment’s anxiety when it occurred to him that perhaps this individual may be waiting to attack him, but when he got closer, he saw that it was only Einarr. Loki was not particularly pleased to see him. It was a reminder of his past enslavement that he neither wanted nor appreciated. 

“What do you want?” he asked discourteously. “Do you think we’re friends now? Is that it? Do you think our mutual enslavement has brought us together? I’m afraid I must disappoint you… I thank you for showing kindness to Millie, but I have no interest in sustaining a friendship.” 

“I don’t expect your friendship.”

“Then what do you want?”

Einarr was silent for a moment. “I don’t rightly know,” he stated. “I feel quite out of place. Although I’m free to do so, the thought of returning to my family and resuming a normal life feels improper. I know not what to do with myself.”

“That I can relate to. But your transition will be easier than mine. You are not reviled as I am among the people.”

“That is true. Nevertheless, my brief stint is slavery has changed me - perhaps permanently, I fear.” 

“You had it easy,” Loki said bluntly. “Your friends among the guards spared you from the harshest treatment.”

“True again. I acknowledge the benefit I gained from my connections, even if your thrice cursed brother did enslave me in the first place.” His face grew bold, as if daring Loki to challenge him, but Loki only shrugged. He could not deny that Thor’s hasty act of retribution was not one of his most glorious moments. 

Einarr was silent for a moment. “It is difficult, is it not, to forget what we have been through?”

“Indeed,” Loki said quietly. “I know not how I shall ever forget.”

“Do you plan to stay?” 

“In Asgard?” Loki looked at him in surprise. “It hadn’t occurred to me to leave. But perhaps I shall. I will never truly be welcome here, no matter how much love the queen bestows upon me.” 

Einarr studied him. “I would not leave my family. But I can understand your situation, I suppose.” 

“Thanks for your approval,” Loki said dryly. “I pray you’ll leave me now? I don’t wish to waste the day on idle chatter with one who has abused me.” 

For a moment it seemed Einarr would defend himself, but ultimately he only inclined his head, saying, “As you wish.” He turned and departed on foot without another word. 

Loki exhaled deeply, releasing tension that had built up in his chest over the course of the unwanted conversation. It was not a pleasant feeling, but he did notice that the numbness had subsided considerably. That was good. Perhaps it meant a semblance of inner peace could be possible in Millie’s absence. 

Perhaps it _would_ be best to leave Asgard, he thought. Word of his crimes had undoubtedly spread throughout the nine realms, but elsewhere there was not likely to be the same degree of loathing he faced from the people of Asgard. Vanaheim, perhaps? His magical abilities would be accepted there. Certainly not Jotunheim. Despite his Jotun heritage, he would be as much an outcast there as he was on Asgard. Not Svartalfheim, either. He winced at the memory of having his lips sewn shut. He had now been through far worse, but he could distinctly remember the sharp pain of the needle piercing his lips and of the thread irritating the wounds as it was pulled tight. It was not something he ever wished to experience again. 

No, several of the realms were out of the question, but Vanaheim was a real possibility. In any case, there was no need to decide right away. He would be welcome in the palace for as long as he wished to stay there, and the thought of maintaining proximity to Frigga for a time was more than comforting. Yes, his future was undetermined, but a path would present itself sooner or later. Perhaps he need only wait and see. 

Sitting high upon his horse, Loki looked out at the nine realms. He remembered the night he’d tried to destroy Jotunheim, when Thor had broken the bifrost and he let himself fall into the abyss. He remembered returning after the Battle of New York, chained and gagged, furiously humbled. He recalled all the times during his enslavement when he’d wished he could beg Heimdall to send him somewhere else, anywhere else. There were so many memories associated with the bifrost, and each of them seemed to signal a pivotal point in his life. The beginning, end, or perpetuation of some new hardship. 

It seemed strange that a landmark representing such difficult times in his life could be a place of such beauty. Looking out into the vast expanse of space somehow made him feel as if a whole world of possibilities existed; that his life might move in any number of different directions now that he was free. But no matter what happened, some things were and always would be certain: 

He would never again have to live in constant fear of the next beating, nor sleep without pillow or blanket in a cold cell of hard stone. 

He would never again be kept away from his beloved mother for months at a time, especially not in an hour of need. 

He would never have to labor so long, or so hard, with such little food and rest to sustain him. 

And he would never again have to call anyone ‘master.’ The thought made him feel empowered like never before. 

_Perhaps my best days are yet to come._

Turning around for the last time, Loki spurred the horse into a trot and rode away from the Bifrost, back toward the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled to get the last few sentences quite right, and I don't think I quite succeeded, but I've always struggled with endings. I'm reasonably satisfied. 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Isaiah 58:6


End file.
